Dear Readers, I moved my blog to the new website: BLUETRAM.
If you still want to travel with Blue Tram please check out: bluetram.net. THANK YOU for beeing with me.
Drodzy Czytelnicy, przeniosłam mój bloga na nową stronę: BLUETRAM.
Jeśli nadal chcecie podróżować z Niebieskim Tramwajem, zapraszam tutaj: BLUETRAM.
Dziękuję, za Waszą obecność!
Nature is silvering my strands of hair
it looks like a morning river
sometimes like a willow bark
or dancing grass on a cliff
The consent to grey hair is a step in getting along with yourself – I read in “Vogue” and kissed the silver strands that have been snowing in my curls for several years.
I think, the first grey hair is difficult to accept, because it is associated with old age, and seems far from the promoted canon of beauty. I had a period where I was thinking I would be forever young. So, when I saw my debut grey hair a few years ago, I started to cut it out, because it was to early have them – I have supposed.
Continue reading “What have I on my head?”
For the summer escapade we went three times to County Clare which stretches on the south from Galway. We have discovered the Burren dominated by glaciated karst, bright spaces but also caves, mysterious archaeological traces, cliffs of all sizes, magical greenness and colourful cottages.
Continue reading “Holiday postcard from County Clare”
I am not looking for, I use what I have around me. When I see something then my ideas born, but also everything starts from myself.
Ciara Beckers is a young artist and in my opinion artist – pioneer because she explores the thing which nobody seems to notice. Her art is very simple but also a bit of surrealistic. I met Ciara last year at the Tiny Traders Village market. While we met again for an interview, I thought that she has something similar to Salvador Dali who was fascinated with revealing deepest ego.
Continue reading “Cosmos of Ciara Beckers”
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.
Continue reading ““Hello darkness, my old friend””
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.
Continue reading “The Lost Flowers of Alice Hart”
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.
Continue reading “Do It Yourself – Australian birds in my kitchen”
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.
Continue reading “I don’t want to be the same – I want to go beyond my habits”
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.
Continue reading “Summer dress of Connemara – a tale and photographs”
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.
Continue reading “Woodstock, New York, illustrations – an interview with artist Sharon Watts”
