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The blue outside seems Portuguese, although it will come Irish rain in an hour. The first sips of my coffee taste of the waves, and I feel the slight swaying like on a boat. Where to go today? I try to revive hope by painting my nails cherry red. Himalayan salt twists my hair as princess Merida has in Brave. I follow my voice.

The next beginning is like the Brooklyn Bridge, slightly bent and still undiscovered. It has the colour of cardamom and lights hidden under tiny roofs. Every spring, poets set out for the Poetry Walk across the wooden walkway through the icon of the city that never sleeps. Then the verses wing over the beige glow of steel as seagulls. Maybe I will join them one day?

However, this fresh sketch is now beyond my imagination. But, I take my time, implement my ideas in small steps. Recently, I have participated in a workshop with American journalists at Zoom. And I also ran my own course – Write your feuilleton. Quite soon I am going for editorial training, so hopefully, the blog posts will flow like a river.

Of course, I suppose I will get a spleen more than once. Nevertheless, I believe that someday I will finally have my own kayak. Then, I will row it across sapphirine Corrib to the great lake.

What about your beginning? Do you feel that something started?

Cover photo by Maciek Doczyk. All rights reservered.