The end of summer lights up inside me like lamps on the ceiling in The Secret Garden, where we write poems with Martyna sipping strawberry-lavender tea. Galway plays the double bass, winks, and introduces itself to us again. Because when guests come to visit me, I also become a tourist for a moment.
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
„We’re cosmonauts
Can I stay with you inside your brain
That way
We won’t be alone”
-so wrote Jamila Faber of Leeuwarden in the Netherlands in her poem. I discovered her, among other authors, in the album “Europe at Home”, where my text was also published.
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
I love to discover charming things in what seems to me well-knowing or ordinary. Sometimes I have an idea of something or someone in my head. But then life overthrows walls of my thinking and as if by magic or twisting Arabela’s ring, it takes me to a wonderful world, but this is the same world that I supposedly know. Where the raindrops like blue slides in a kaleidoscope form a Socratic sentence: I know that I know nothing.
Continue reading
Colorful lights on the Christmas tree are breathing. Tap water drips in the silence. Under the warm yellow light from the lamp, dust shines instead of snow. I haven’t posted anything on the blog for a long time, but I really wanted to be offline without fitting into any templates. It grew as easy in me as un-shaved eyebrows. And I like it.
Continue reading
I never know where life will surprise me on a regular Friday. The weather is not the worst, but gray clouds are flying in my head. However in the early afternoon, after work, I am looking for an outstanding sandwich and good coffee. Though it would be best to use a time machine and move elsewhere.
Continue reading
Continue readingAnd all the roads that lead you there were winding
And all the lights that light the way are blinding
There are many things that
I would like to say to you but I don’t know how
(…)
Oasis “Wonderwall”
You feel mighty free and easy and comfortable on a raft.
Mark Twain
On a warm afternoon, Marisol, Jacek, Marcin and I, arrive at Menlo Pier, just 4 km from Galway. Jim Morrissey from Kayakmór sits on the bench in front of the water, we say hello and we keep waiting for a few more people. Behind the car, we change into wetsuits, put on matching life jackets. Yellow, orange, red, and blue kayaks gleam on the shore against the background of the sweet flag.
Continue reading