just a couple of photos shot from my balcony at home. using a cell phone, what a disgrace ;) but I quite like that hazy golden effect. anyway, they're here because they evoke good memories :)
I was catching the last rays of sun just after a big storm, a mug of hot chocolate in hand.
although it's been barely ten days since my return from home in Poland to london, this moment feels ages away.
my 1,5 month long stay at home helped me sort out many things, just like I hoped it would. first of all, it proved that indeed, I am not cut out for life in this, or any other country other than my own :)
it's not particularly new, but I'm a cook book junkie and have an urge to acquire as many as possible. and this one has been patiently awaiting its turn on the shelf :) although you might call it a cook book, there's so much more to it... in a nutshell, it's a tale of two englishmen leaving their busy lives in the city to open a guest-house in a tiny french village.
I'm a sucker for stories about escapes to the country, renovating old houses, gardens and cooking, so it's right up my alley. recommend it to everyone, incredibly warm and uplifting :)
this girl inspires me to no end lately. she's a gifted photographer with blue eyes that can stop you in your tracks. such a powerful combination of delicate femininity with wildness. talent and compassion. vibrant creativity, completely unpretentious.
especially recommended for my Polish readers, as the girl has a beautiful way with words - all of her posts are a joy to read!
if it sounds like I'm girl crushing, that's because I totally am :))
the happiness of life is made up of minute fractions-the little soon-forgotten charities of a kiss, a smile, a kind look, a heartfelt compliment in the disguise of a playful raillery, and the countless other infinitessimals of pleasurable thought and genial feeling.
samuel taylor coleridge
I've dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas, they've gone through me, like wine through water, and altered the color of my mind.
human speech is like a cracked tin kettle, on which we hammer out tunes to make bears dance when we long to move the stars.