“Glimpses” by Daria Danuta Lisiecka take me to various places.
First I get off at the railway station in A. – Aleksandrów Kujawski, darling stop of a provincial town in Poland, my friend and poet waits for me there.
Continue reading ““Glimpses” – poems which take you for travel”
This city wear jeans and spreads poems in culs-de-sacs. Here time is like the ocean, patiently shining between my fingers.
Twelve years ago I met a city inlet of the Atlantic, full of shimmering colours, sincere tolerance, songs flowing to the heart – and the loud cries of seagulls. Then I thought that I would like to live here someday. After some years, the fleeting vision turned into reality. I have lived in Galway for seven years.
Continue reading “Galway after sunrise #1”
So here’s an idea for a more useful game. Next time you go for a walk, pick a bag and fill it with trash, post a picture of it and nominate other friends to do so. We all have gloves and masks, you’ll be isolated so no excuses, but please respect the quarantine restrictions. Please feel free to participate without being nominated
-wrote Enrico Bagnoli on his Facebook profile and he has motivated others to clean up their nearest areas.
He went for a walk and took a large bag full of plastic rubbish and fishing waste on the edge of the ocean.
Continue reading “People who change the world in Galway”
Hold the light, it’s inside and will be there day or night
– sang Bert Sommer at the Woodstock festival.
I have no idea how it happens but when I’m really resigned and I can’t see the sun in my life, though the sun is outside the window. When the darkness wants to keep me, then unexpectedly something blue gives me a kiss.
Continue reading “Kiss of life”
(…)
the cherry blossom
has arrived
as if that is what
we were really waiting for.
(from poem “Cranes lean in” by Imtia Dharker)
I’ve always liked to observe the world around me, but since I slowed down more because of a pandemic, I start to see my local piece more clearly.
Continue reading “Birds – my neighbors and Agnieszka Osiecka’s poem for support”
One day, I saw a tall tree on the sunny grass. Its taproots were so spreading so I decided to sit on one of them, and I rested my back on a warm trunk. It was so comfortable like sitting in an armchair and I felt great. Then I thought to go back to this tree every day, which unexpectedly became my companion.
Continue reading “How I found my tree”
The door to my house is blue. In the hall, yellow sneakers would like to go somewhere, but no one puts them on. Only the orange rocks from the painting by Roderic O’Connor look at them.
Continue reading “Voids, which are inside us”
He is a painter, his job is to paint. For himself, for painting, because that is his vocation, because he would not be able to not transform what he sees into the painting works.
– wrote Henri Perruchot in the book “Cézanne”.
This is one of my favourite publications. It made me want to go to Aix-de-Provence, a small town in France, where a boy was born, who at the age of five scribbled with charcoal on the walls of what surrounding him, and people were surprised how realistic it was.
Continue reading “The light of Paul Cézanne”
I run along the river, again. The morning flows under my skin. The sun sketches relief in grey cells.
Continue reading “Running as a contemplation”
When I make paper collages I cut out something from inside me: dreams, emotions, the future. Then suddenly I can walk on a lavender field in a green coat. Heathers grow out of my head. The cat smells like the sun.
Following my imagination, I am looking for what I miss.
Continue reading ““Heaven to rent” – collage workshop via Skype”
blue tram 