Category Reflections

3D on the balcony

Oregano, strong green sedge, and pink lobelia are the first plants in my tiny garden, which I create on the balcony. On the wooden floor, I put a mat with a floral motif and beige pillows. In the middle, is a square table like a tray, a bit Japanese style. Stones collected from the ocean are silent next to the pots together with a ceramic owl made by my niece.

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I learn how to write a reportage

There is a good time for everything

Blue wings sprout from my shoulders when I start to write. Then on Saturday morning, I fly for a coffee, even though a hailstorm rages on the streets of Galway. In the Portishead hoody and with the sketches of the texts under the cap, I feel like myself and I know that this time nothing will stop me. Because here I am at the dream reportage course led by Polish journalist Marcin Kącki.

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Cats, Coffee, and Galway

It does not matter that today is Sunday, we have to get up early, because two cats are waiting for us, and we mind of them over the weekend. The seagulls scream from five in the morning as if their white, and sea-scented feathers are being stripped off. But in the cat garden, petunias and bluebells wake up calmly.

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How Are You Today? – Poetry Workshop with Jacek Bierut

Where are they today, on what side,
my favorite earrings? -
The fire begins to die out,
the poor girl wants to cry.
And they don't know where and how -
a great wind sprang up
(…)
And they don't know where and how - 
the oak leaves just fall,
on the girls' lap leaf by leaf has fallen
Girls will make aureate earrings from them.

from the poem of Papusza "Leaf earings".

I was already very frustrated with my daily gallop due to the difficult experiences, and besides that, war broke out, and we can feel its exhalation also in distant Galway. I wanted to cry like the girl from the poem by Papusza because cloudy thoughts convinced me that I had lost something beautiful in my life. It was then that I signed up for the poetry workshop Snop of shadows led by the poet and prose writer Jacek Bierut. There was a winter poetry series online, a few one-day meetings. And I found myself in the last March class.

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