Ever since I can remember, I used to daydream. I did this a lot as a young girl and at times my dreams spilled into my drawings and paintings.
Being a child of immigrants, I constantly yearned for items my parents could not afford. Thus, not being able to own or posses them, I drew them.
It was a wonderful escapism and my imaginary world supplied me with a relatively adequate substitute, when reality failed to provide what I needed.
Later, as a teenager I continue depicting my dreams on paper, because my imagination was always vivid and to my dreams the sky was never the limit. I found a release in being creative, one that brought a certain amount of tranquility into my days. I relished in the idea of being able to create a world the way I wanted to see it. My romantic views came to their full potential as I drew and painted, and I most absolutely enjoyed the idea of putting my visions on paper and later on canvas.
Thus daydreaming occupied many spare moments of my teenage years and continued long after I turned into a young adult.
Today I no longer feel the need to draw my dreams, instead my contemplation about life, past, present and future is channeled into my writing and my photography. Nevertheless, my thoughts still do wonder from time to time. That momentarily reality escape, as my gaze is drawn to an invisible point in the air, instigating a flight in time and space, where anything is possible...
Over time I came to the realization that the magic of my teenage dreams and the way I depicted them on paper had very little to do with them coming true. It had to do with the idea and the anticipation of them doing so. As I have traveled through life's up and downs, I have come to the enlightenment that true joy and happiness lies in the pursuit. However grand and satisfactory it is to reach one goals, the euphoria we feel is temporary.
The enchantment and the absolutely unforgettable experience is hidden in the expectations and in the journey itself. Too often we are so blinded by the efforts of reaching our destination, that we forget to enjoy the trip.
We forget to enjoy the magic of detours and wrong turns and we let the best pass us by...
I was born under the Tatra Mountains, to a Czech father and a Slovak mother. I grew up in Sweden and lived almost ten years in North Carolina.
More than a decade ago my line of work took me to Denmark, where I live today. My home, which I share with the man that holds my heart, lies in the northerly part of a Danish peninsula, in the proximity of endless, wide and pristine westbound sandy beaches, surrounded by the rough and untamed North Sea.
My writing is defined by reflections on my cosmopolitan past and my intriguing present. Ultimately I try to convey in words and images my personal thoughts and feelings about life itself, with all its magic, natural splendour and the beauty of simple pleasures.