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.
Continue reading
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.
Continue reading
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.
Continue reading
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! 😊
Continue reading
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.
Continue reading
Monday woke up gloomy with some seed of dark mood, and with a gale ate at the breakfast.
Continue reading
The weekend started with friends. Opening by an Italian coffee with Aga on a happy Woodquay Street. And the evening with Bia and Jack who brought us a plant straight from Brazil.
Continue reading
The last morning in Turkey is lavender and pink. We are awakened by the sound of the Sea of Marmara. The first boats set off to Istanbul, the neighbors meet for a morning swim. We leave the room to the sandy shore. Ulvi our host from Efe Cafe has already prepared toasts and teas in bell glasses. He lights a cigarette and tells us about his everyday life in Silivri. In a moment we say goodbye in Turkish: Güle güle and leave the gate carefully so as not to run into a cat that has a bath under an olive tree at the corner of the street.
Continue reading
Sometimes the adventure starts late and completely unexpectedly, at 4:00 p.m. when you are moodily lying on the sofa. Then suddenly you want to eat something, but only in some beautiful place, far away, maybe on Lough Derg. Because it’s 90 km from Galway, where you’ve never been in your life.
Continue reading
There is a world apart,
of elemental beauty carved by glacier,
where tiny wildflowers
pierce through limestone.
-a fragment of the poem The Breathing Burren by Maureen Grady.Continue reading