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 readingHow does a bicycle give me wings in everyday life?
Category Reflections
Very close from here
Who knows where it is:
the constant dogs, auroras, and wild gardens?
It is very, very, very close from here
It is there, where losing, no one wins
There is the lake and the peak in parallel
and I dance, I swim over, to the void - for nothing.
-sings Mela Koteluk.
Continue readingBrussels Cat
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“Can we walk on water?” – what say the murals in Galway!
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 readingTime for an autumn bike
On a blue bike, fitted into a moss saddle, we will find our way
There is already autumn in Galway. September painted the leaves red, coppery and yellow at the University Park.
Continue readingOn the hike to Carrantuohill – sheep, elephants and myself
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 readingWhat have I on my head?
Nature is silvering my strands of hair
it looks like a morning river
sometimes like a willow bark
or dancing grass on a cliff
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“Hello darkness, my old friend”
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 readingYour own ritual
The morning has the taste of dates
nostalgic and quite rough.
The rain is dripping into the coffee
– a friend who listens
my 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“Hey, hey, life is a tale when the wind rustles on the shrouds!”
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.
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