A confederacy of quinces

A bunch of quinces which are now in a jar, transformed in a golden jam.
A bad taste after a certain day this past week.
A cold which I cure with apples and teas.
A silent autumn Sunday.
A jet lag without even travelling.

[b&w]
[our world]

where did they hide the sky

maybe it's behind the sun
or
maybe it's behind the yellow

My Facebook page HERE.

ants of light

[B&W]
My Facebook page: HERE.

autumn skies

don't know about you, but my mornings have to be calm
and smell like coffee
a bit of bright sky is also welcomed
and maybe a slice of bread and some butter.

imperfect

don't get me wrong,
but I hate poetry.
in spite of this fact,
I cannot find a better way to express
the horror that I felt
when I realized
that by smashing that spider
I took a life.

Autumn makes me weird and sad melancholic. I guess.

[Our world.]
["Mar" is in Romanian "apple". "M" is a martyr spider :)). "Mellow" is the light in autumn. M  in the ABC Wednesday.]

the boy and the sea

Who could tell what is in the mind of a little boy while he watches the waves? Maybe not even the boy himself could tell. Is it joy? Is it fear? Is it the colour that fascinates him, or the roar? Observer, or tamer of waves?

Who knows? Maybe not even the boy himself could tell...

Our world. In the hands of children.

peekaboo

Pick a peek, peek at a book, pick a book?
Seek and hide, hide and seek, sea sick?
[In Dubrovnik, Croatia. For Our World.]
my facebook page

Kafe 071 - a Sarajevan dream

While I am definitely a globe trotter, one of those beings that love to feel the rucksack in their back and the plane ticket in their pocket, it is also true that when I fall inlove with a place I make it my home, even if for a brief moment only. So, if anywone would like me to describe my heart, I would say it is a mosaic of places I encountered and started to love. My heart is a big home made of an impressive number of small homes, all trapped in my soul forever. I added one more piece to this puzzle when I set my foot in Sarajevo, and the moments when I sipped a coffee on the benches of Kafe 071 brought flavour to that wonderful evening. Beautiful and welcoming as his lady owner (my searches on the internet pointed towards Aida Hasanbegovic, but I am not sure and I am so upset I didn't ask her for the name and/or facebook account :))  ), this place is another Sarajevan fairy tale I am glad I encountered...

[Our World]
[if you are on facebook, my page is HERE]

Sarajevan sunset

Words are useless.

Enjoy Skywatching!

a little Sarajevan Ramadan story

I admit: I know almost nothing about Ramadan, so upon our arrival in Sarajevo we bumped into the first restaurant that was offering some gorgeous food on display - you know, the home-made type that will make your mouth water. But when the waiter told us we have to wait a good half an hour till he can serve us food, some lights blinked in our heads and we asked with one brow raised, already knowing the answer though: "aaand can we get a beer, too?". The man smiled, almost on the brink of starting laughing out loud, but probably fearing not to hurt our feelings he kindly explained: "oh, no, I am so sorry, but, you see, this is a Bosnian - Muslim restaurant, we only serve soft drinks. If you like a beer, you cross the street to the pub, drink it, and come back here for food afterwards." And yes, his English was this good!

Half an hour later, while sipping a beer on some comfortable couches of an open air Irish pub (yes, indeed), we heard a boom! and all of a sudden hundreds of grills started burning and the smell of barbecue invaded the city.

A day later we were rambling around the city at dusk, purposeless, but yet focused, observing, photographing, acquiring memories. Wondering why such a violent war has plagued such a beautiful - and peaceful - city.
I don't actually remember how we got on that hill above the Baščaršija, but since it was in front of us we climbed it. Surprised, we discovered there quite a bunch of people, not all Muslims, you could definitely see that from the clothing of the ladies, but all carrying some food boxes of sorts, yet unopened. A TV crew was there as well, fussing around the man who was definitely the most important person on the spot, the master of this small improvised canon. 

A cat and a dog were rambling around, the cat really cheeky, pushing its nose to open a pizza box and other bags of food, while people were explaining to him (yeah, a boy :)) ) that it's not time yet for the food. 

When the-most-important-man-of-the-hour started arranging his canon, we (as well as all the others) formed a semicircle around him. He pushed us back and we obeyed. A supreme authority he was!

And then: BOOOM! It was time for Iftar! The cat got its share of food from everybody around. The dog too. And nobody minded the fact that the animals were a bit impatient. 

  
The city down the hill came to life, thousands of lights started their dance. Smoke from the many Cevabdzinicas in the valley added funny curly mustaches to the landscape.
In the dimming light I took one more picture of this couple. The photo is shaky, but the message is clear: may love watch over Sarajevo, as it did that July evening, on top of the hill!

[G is from grateful. Part of the ABC Wednesday.]

Sarajevan cliché

Back in the days of my early adolescence, when I was just discovering the smell and the strong taste of my grandmother's coffee, people were still brewing at home the so-called "Turkish coffee". There were no machines, espresso was something that I guess my grandmother never heard of. Coffee itself was a rare merchandise, more precious than gold, tastier than anything else.
Nowadays, in our hurry, we just push the little red button on the filter machine and the dark liquid simply starts pouring. There is little attention we give to this - otherwise - adored habit of drinking coffee.
When we traveled last month to Sarajevo, I had the chance once again to feel the taste of my grandmother's coffee. Boiled in these little copper pots, stirred, talked to, enchanted, blessed.
Having a coffee when going out in the city is already a cliché - but if you ask me, I would prefer at any time to have this cliché served the Sarajevan way.
[Our World] & [Tones on Tuesday]

Sarajevo: vertically unlimited

Vertical limit? How can such a thing exist? Verticality is/means/embodies limitless. Faith does that too, and friendship is supposed to have its fair share of lack of boundaries.
Verticality also means freedom. Oh, and yes, for our dreams only the sky is the limit. In Sarajevo or wherever else.
What do you have to say about this?

[Mosaic Monday.]

proudly promoting

the eyes of the city

[serene, in spite of.]

B&W weekend.
Sundays in my city
click on the photo for a better view

proudly promoting

Sarajevo un mom srcu

 A red traffic light is just a joke: it will turn green real soon. And then let's cross the bridge over Drina and move on, towards Sarajevo.

Vienna: buildability

Midday heat, midsummer hectic.
[walk in the streets]

the urban village

[walk in the streets]
[w/e in b&w]

say what?!

[Wordless Wednesday]
[Rednesday]

cat in a corner

a coffee and cake? oh, well, but the waiter is a snail (and I mean it!). and look, there are frogs on the table, aiming at the (huge) butterflies on the wall.

does it matter? not really, as long as two funny cats keep you company.

[and did you know in Vienna there is a Katzencafe? a cafe where you can play with cats, while sipping some wonderful Viennese coffee?]

[walk in the streets]

of beautiful people

the nights and days of a composer must be fabulous: dwelling in a magic world of sounds and wicked little harmonies, swirling around your ear, demanding that you catch them. that's not an easy task to get hold of your inner sound and put it on paper, and later, on the strings of a violin, or on the keys of a piano.
but how about the trivial Alltag - the quotidian, the daily routine? how does that fit this picture?

[share the joy]
[things in a row]
[sky watch]
[himmelsk]

a surfer's pride

[b&w weekend]