Blue morning on a sunny Sunday

High heels echo in the middle of the street

Getting lost while time goes by

Rescued memories of a rainy day

walking on the street

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Thanks to Bojana and her love for poetry I decided to contribute myself to the National Poetry Month (which is celebrated in April in North America). As I am not a poet, I will only say few Words:

Soft words sing a lullaby

On a clear evening when there is no cry

Lonely mother who is about

Ready to fight back the wicked and cast out.

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Don’t miss them..

I was having this collage of sunsets on my desktop for awhile, and holding them close to me every day. For me, these are not only places, these are dear memories as well. But the inspiration came one day through Alison (and one of her beautiful sunset photos), and suddenly I thought to share my little collection with you. Dear reader, I hope you will also enjoy!

Varadero, Cuba Continue reading


No matter what you would like to say, you need to use your words. Good words or bad words, simple or complicated, you use your words at your best convenience. You use words when you speak, you use words when you cry, you use them when you laugh, or pray. We cannot hear your words when you think, but you can hear them yourself for your own sake.

The words can be mean, the words can be nice, they can bring sorrow but they can bring joy. We can control the words, but they can control us too; they can be quiet, but they can be loud too. They can be silent, but noisy in your head; they can cause frustration, vexation, or resentments. But they can bring comfort, pleasure, or happiness. Continue reading

That’s a beginning..

“And some day, after it sets in us a long time, it’ll come out our hands and our mouths. And a lot of it will be wrong, but just enough of it will be right. We’ll just start walking today and see the world and the way the world walks around and talks, the way it really looks. I want to see everything now. And while none of it will be me when it goes in, after a while it’ll all gather together inside and it’ll be me. Look at the world out there, my God, my God, look at it out there, outside me, out there beyond my face and the only way to really touch it is to put it where it’s finally me, where it’s in the blood, where it pumps around a thousand times ten thousand a day. I’ll get hold of it so it’ll never run off I’ll hold onto the world tight some day. I’ve got one finger on it now; that’s a beginning.” – Ray Bradbury