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When I was a small I was asking “What is life, mom?”.
You see life is me and you, this bird, that tree and flower – she was answering to me.from the song of Dżem “Naive questions”.
Summer came. Connemara has dressed in juicy green and now looks like a land of hobbits. Fragrant, soft, blissful.
The road is a charming tunnel of trees and then waves like a graphite ribbon between thrills.
I stop in the valley, there are Early-purple Orchids smells of freedom. I jump into the grass, sheep bleat at my fingertips.
Above me the mountain. Tufts of sedge under the feet and grey boulders warmed by the sun – have been here for centuries. I counted ten different types of mosses on their bellies. One moss is like a dark brown fur, another has a red-copper hue, it is also silver one which is harsh and look as if frozen in lava.
I glance down, where a little sheep runs to her mother on sphagnum carpets. Her bleating touches my heart. Finally I sit under the sky on the craggy peak.
Lake Corrib and all shades of happiness shine on the horizon.
All photos by @Maciek Doczyk. Wszelkie prawa zastrzeżone.