On Valentine’s Day, the sun woke up earlier than a week ago. As usual, I peeked through the blinds right after waking up and saw the blue sky was brightening. And thanks this miracle I had more energy.
Continue readingPosts tagged Ireland
I come back to Inis Meáin
October started quickly. I don’t know where it is rushing. So I try to capture this last week. I listen to the dripping rain, watch the flickering candle flame. I grind coffee beans, warmth brown like chestnuts. I am looking a fox in the garden. At the Galway market, I eat homemade sushi in the fleeting sunshine. Meanwhile a poem I write about November.
Continue readingWhat home means to you?
The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.
Maya Angelou
The orange light of sunset behind the curtain, made bed, heather-covered hills, a mother’s hands, a kettle on the stove with laundry drying above it, relaxed cat, people hugging, shoes, glass bottles of homemade juice, the ocean (…) Various images remind us of home. We come from different countries, but we all live in Galway, and we are united by a Photography Exhibition “Home” part of Eastside Arts Festival organized by Hugh Murphy.
Continue readingLeave nothing on the beach but your foot prints
Finally, I’m cleaning up one of my local beach in Galway again with a group of volunteers. This time, I’m joining an event organized by Luana Jungmann from Curi Ocean.
Continue readingFox in my garden
5:35 a.m. The fox turns to me his pointed muzzle and staring at me from ten feet away, like all the wildlife nature trying to survive in this city.
Continue readingVisiting Yeats Tower
On a sunny Sunday in August, I sit at William Butler Yeats’s table, writing a few thoughts for the master. On the desk lies many of loose sheets of paper, a pen, a quill, and an inkwell. Light streams in through the green-framed window. I reflect, smile, and look at the red and yellow flowers in a vase. On the sideboard are old books and the poet’s blue teapot.
Continue readingDaily Piece of Art To Be Alive
In our roof garden, large orange and red toadstools have grown, sprinkled with irregular balls that look like rolled-up papers. When November draws in the clouds and starts raining all day long, our toadstools are like living pieces of art, their colours shining through the darkest thoughts.
Continue readingHania Rani Can Do Anything In Music
–Long day – a guy talks to us in Dudley’s Bar, where we are waiting for a concert by Hania Rani, a Polish pianist and composer. I’m drinking a pint of Blue Ghosts in honor of her new album ‘Ghosts’.
– Oh yes, it’s a very long and exciting day, for us, we came from Galway, because just around the corner in Vicar Street will perform an amazing artist who can do anything in music – says Maciek.
Continue readingClean-up beach – power, archeology & fun
I like all shades of blue and living near the ocean. The cries of seagulls are homely sounds to me. And for several years, cleaning the beach has become part of my life. I have already written about how rubbish opens wide their jaws. That’s why on Wednesday afternoon I’m bursting with energy and I don’t feel tired after work. Because I have a motive.
Continue readingMemories made in Carlow
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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