We are sitting again on the celadon green chairs on the cobblestone sidewalk. Sunlight filters through the window of the local café, Despensa N.6. For breakfast, gluten-free pancakes with peaches or buckwheat bread with Flamengo cheese. Everything is Lisbon.
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You don’t have to keep up with everything, rush here and there… you can just be, look around until you see.
I get on tram no. 4 and go to Katajanokka Island. The oldest district of Helsinki, where the writer Tove Jansson grew up. When I get off I go up the street, but suddenly I decide to go one more stop. I notice another green vehicle, I run and a boy who is walking on the sidewalk, runs first to catch this tram for me.
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I walk through Galway, the blue-yellow Tigh Neahtain bar gleaming in a good mood. People getting inspired from here and now. My favorite Dominik Street winks in the Galway Bay Tatto window. I always knew that this Art Gallery was where I would get my tattoo. Because there is a charm exhibition by Nancy Klain, botanical artist & owner of this studio. And it fascinate me every time.
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It starts at the Gare Du Midi station, where I get off the spray-painted train and immediately run to buy a clasic waffle with sugar. Trains to Amsterdam, Paris, and London whistle in the background. But I only want to be in Brussels. This is where I came to meet my friend halfway.
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I turn on the electro jazz of the Svaneborg Kardyb duo and I am getting off the metro again at Enghave Square in Vesterbo district in Copenhagen. People sit on the wooden sidewalk around, at tables in Navnløs Kaffe & Bar, or on benches, curbs, and lawns next to tenement houses. They have coffee from their own thermos or from cafes. Many eat fresh spandeuer from the local Bageried BRØD.
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Puedo escribir los versos a más de 40 grados esta noche Pablo Neruda
When Galway winds blow and the last summer sun shines, I sigh for the city of Hercules – the god of travel. Seville for me is warm yellow mixed with orange peels, blue, and malachite. Brass gates and behind them gardens like from “Tales from the Arabian Nights”. “Red buses and Santa Justa railway station where I get off or get on with flushed face.
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When I wake up in Galway after travel, I look everywhere for cortado coffee. Even if, I only drank black Americano. But, recently, I hit with Spain. And Cadiz became my third home, full of light.
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On my birthday, I discover a new strand of gray hair and I’m very happy about it because the color matches my April dress perfectly. Kilkenny wakes up from songs sung in The Field Bar. I love you – I keep humming in my rock & roll mind.
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We expected the sun to come out from behind the clouds. But that the wind will fly away, and not a single drop of rain fall. WOW! ?
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Oh, my life changes every day in every possible way – The Cranberries sings, and I could notice a young shamrock emerging from the darkness. I see these little boutonnières pinned to hoodies and waterproof jackets. Because today Saint Patrick is cleaning up on the island after winter.
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