I cannot imagine my life without a bike. Ever since I can remember, the bicycle has always motivated me to the adventure. Even if I was riding to the store on the same street.Continue reading
One autumn, I was in Brussels. Yesterday, the photos reminded me of that. Yellow and copper leaves scattered on the sidewalks in the city centre, beige and grey tenement houses, sceneries with an admixture of orange and burgundy – they are colours of Brussels.Continue reading
I did not plan to write the next post so soon, but the Galway’s murals called out to me.
I love murals in urban space. I missed them in Galway. But, something has changed. And thought-provoking photomontages appeared on several buildings in my city.Continue reading
You should not go to the mountains alone. Because you never know what might suddenly happen. A woman who stayed with us last year also said that she would be fine on the hike to Carrantuohill, but she got stuck in a crack and had to be rescued by helicopter.
-so said John, when I announced that tomorrow I am going to the mountains alone. And he was right, but my desire to climb was stronger than fear that the wind would blow me off the ridge of the higgest mountain of Ireland.Continue reading
The consent to grey hair is a step in getting along with yourself – I read in “Vogue” and kissed the silver strands that have been snowing in my curls for several years.
I think, the first grey hair is difficult to accept, because it is associated with old age, and seems far from the promoted canon of beauty. I had a period where I was thinking I would be forever young. So, when I saw my debut grey hair a few years ago, I started to cut it out, because it was to early have them – I have supposed.Continue reading
When the light goes out over my story, I hesitate to get up and make a coffee in an orange mug but I do it and go into the darkness. The wipers can not keep up with the ocean that pours in front of my eyes. I feel dizzy in my head for thirty minutes. And finally, I see that sheep also like to hide under a rock.Continue reading
The morning has the taste of dates
nostalgic and quite rough.
The rain is dripping into the coffee
– a friend who listensmy morning poem
I have one regular ritual in the morning for two or even three years. I sit down on a plush sofa with a cup of coffee, with nice porridge (today full of dates), and sometimes with fresh orange juice and a cat on my knees (depending on cat).Continue reading
At 6 a.m. I was awoke by the roar of the wind. And although the curtains danced to the rhythm of this ferment, I went out as usual to run along the river.Continue reading