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.
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Finally, I am going by train. No matter if only fifteen minutes, I feel the same call for adventure as if I were going to Dublin. Meanwhile, I get off in Athenry – a tiny town near Galway.
On the platform, I meet Bronagh. She is also a Wave Maker of Galway 2020. We will be flying kites with Hope it Rains. It is not raining, thanks God, but the wind is as usual. Who would have seen West Ireland without the wind?
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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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This year, the White Locomotive / “Biała Lokomotywa”/ – cozy literary festival from Łazieniec, in Poland organized by Daria Lisiecka, sat at my table in Galway, 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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Always windy and rainy weather can be depressing, even more if you are alone. When you open yourself to others then you can look at the chilly weather from a creative perspective and become happier with what you have right now.
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It was our first meeting after lock down, Bia, my Brazilian friend who lives in Galway, gave me a small container with a smiled emoji on it and words: Feito com amizade / Made with friendship. Inside was a white, delicate requeijão reminiscent of creamy cottage cheese or ricotta. But for me, this taste was totally new.
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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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On an evening in June 2020, Sharon Watts’s illustrations take me to an America the 60s & 70s which emanated with the big changes. Dreams pour out from the stories of a reluctant hippie chick. Did Sharon meet Bob Dylan at Cafe Reggio on MacDougal Street in New York? – I wonder.
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I have published an opening blog post in June 2019, just before my flight to Romania, where the history of the Blue Tram has started.
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Hold the light, it’s inside and will be there day or night
– sang Bert Sommer at the Woodstock festival.
I have no idea how it happens but when I am really resigned and I can not see the sun in my life, even if the sun shines outside the window. When the darkness wants to grab me, then unexpectedly something blue gives me a kiss.
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