On 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.

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White Locomotive at my table

This year, the White Locomotive / “Biała Lokomotywa”/ – cozy literary festival from Łazieniec, in Poland organized by Daria Lisiecka, sat at my table in Glaway, in Ireland. Locomotive whistled LIVE through the monitor window. For me it was an awesome experience, truly intense, but different if I could sit under a tree in the front of Edward Stachura’s house. However, digitally the White Locomotive had the same power to take me to the meadow.

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What 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.

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Holiday postcard from County Clare

For the summer escapade we went three times to County Clare which stretches on the south from Galway. We have discovered the Burren dominated by glaciated karst, bright spaces but also caves, mysterious archaeological traces, cliffs of all sizes, magical greenness and colourful cottages.

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Cosmos of Ciara Beckers

I am not looking for, I use what I have around me. When I see something then my ideas born, but also everything starts from myself.

Ciara Beckers is a young artist and in my opinion artist – pioneer because she explores the thing which nobody seems to notice. Her art is very simple but also a bit of surrealistic. I met Ciara last year at the Tiny Traders Village market. While we met again for an interview, I thought that she has something similar to Salvador Dali who was fascinated with revealing deepest ego.

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“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.

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The Lost Flowers of Alice Hart

For women who doubt the worth and power of their story

– detication from the book

Today for the first time on my blog I present a prose and for the second time I mention Australia. “The Lost Flowers of Alice Hart “ – is Holly Ringland’s debut novel. 415 pages that I read almost in one breath, over exactly two afternoons.

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