Category Places

Seville Dreams

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Pablo Neruda

When Galway winds blow and the last summer sun shines, I sigh for the city of Hercules – the god of travel. Seville for me is warm yellow mixed with orange peels, blue, and malachite. Brass gates and behind them gardens like from “Tales from the Arabian Nights”. “Red buses and Santa Justa railway station where I get off or get on with flushed face.

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Homely Gdansk

Smells of pink tulips when we eat breakfast with the door open. Triangles with cheese, vanilla tea, and crunchy flakes do not miss the attention of a black-and-white cat. Colorful hammocks rock us on the porch, and we look at soap bubbles as if it is magic. A badminton shuttlecock flies across the blue sky from me to you. And storks dance over a field of bright yellow rapeseed.

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Tea Sugar A Dream – Thank You, Turkey!

The last morning in Turkey is lavender and pink. We are awakened by the sound of the Sea of ​​Marmara. The first boats set off to Istanbul, the neighbors meet for a morning swim. We leave the room to the sandy shore. Ulvi our host from Efe Cafe has already prepared toasts and teas in bell glasses. He lights a cigarette and tells us about his everyday life in Silivri. In a moment we say goodbye in Turkish: Güle güle and leave the gate carefully so as not to run into a cat that has a bath under an olive tree at the corner of the street.

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