Visitors on the island

This post is also available in: polski (Polish)

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.

Spinach with raisins and mosaic pans on the wall at Cava Bodega chase away rainy clouds from the weather forecast. Moments wind like a road between the brown-green hills of Connemara and then radiate a turquoise and pink glow on Glassilaun beach. Ginger seaweed on the graphite rocks under our feet.

photo by Maciek Doczyk

Inside a huge mountain of Burren, in Aillwee Cave, century-old reflections drip down the navy blue wall into the bloodstream. We are endlessly into the sparkling Atlantic as we wander the cliffs of Moher.

photo by Maciek Doczyk

And we don’t know what’s next, maybe America, or homey India, either Wroclaw or maybe toasts with scrambled eggs and avocado for breakfast, one morning … Hey, we all have essa* here. Eugenia Team! Saffron rice as a takeaway gift. We are the ones who roam the beach at Silver Strand after sunset together with a pearl moon.

have essa – from the slang of Polish Youth, it means – to be totally at ease

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