“Hello darkness, my old friend”

When the light goes out over my story, I hesitate to get up and make a coffee in an orange mug but I do it and go into the darkness. The wipers can not keep up with the ocean that pours in front of my eyes. I feel dizzy in my head for thirty minutes. And finally, I see that sheep also like to hide under a rock.

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The Lost Flowers of Alice Hart

For women who doubt the worth and power of their story

– detication from the book

Today for the first time on my blog I present a prose and for the second time I mention Australia. “The Lost Flowers of Alice Hart “ – is Holly Ringland’s debut novel. 415 pages that I read almost in one breath, over exactly two afternoons.

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Do It Yourself – Australian birds in my kitchen

My life is small things.

I placed my favourite spices in the little glass jars with special inscriptions: LOVE (MIŁOŚĆ in Polish) – for the orange saffron, SUN (SŁOŃCE in Polish) – for turmeric, MAGIC (CZAR in Polish) – for black sesame seeds, FOREST (LAS in Polish) – for flax seeds.

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I don’t want to be the same – I want to go beyond my habits

The phenomenon of the Sibiu International Theatre Festival in Romania goes on regardless of time. It is a sense of community of people from various countries, the openness to others, and the love of artistic activities. Last year, I was a volunteer at this festival and recently I got a chance to participate in the conference Sibiu Performing Arts Market again.

The theatre festival in Sibiu has become part of life for many people. For mee, too. So, I would like to share with you the moving spirit which I experienced at the last online edition.

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Summer dress of Connemara – a tale and photographs

When I was a small I was asking “What is life, mom?”.

You see life is me and you, this bird, that tree and flower – she was answering to me.

from the song of Dżem “Naive questions”.

Summer came. Connemara has dressed in juicy green and now looks like a land of hobbits. Fragrant, soft, blissful.

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Woodstock, New York, illustrations – an interview with artist Sharon Watts

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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Your own ritual

The morning has the taste of dates

nostalgic and quite rough

The rain is dripping into the coffee

– a friend who listens

I have one regular ritual in the morning for two or even three years. I sit down on a plush sofa with a cup of coffee, with nice porridge (today full of dates), and sometimes with fresh orange juice and a cat on my knees (depending on cat).

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