These days I spend somewhat limited time in my white house on the hill. Instead, almost every weekend I am adding miles to my little Toyota engine, as my faithful car takes me up north to a place that is increasingly becoming my new home.
Thus my terrace and garden are suffering from a certain mild neglect. The patio tiles are surrounded by weed and I have not planted any seasonal flowers since early this spring.
My potted plants are luckily all evergreens and they seem to be nevertheless thriving quiet well and have grown beyond belief. The garden is now displaying the bloom of all my fragrant bushes and shrubs, such as jasmine, caprifolium and a variety of roses.
Despite the lack of my attention, the growth proceeds undisturbed in an uncanny way.
The other morning, as I stepped outside with a cup of coffee, I had to linger there for a while, inhaling the perfumed morning air, saturated by dew and scents of June bloom.
A faint, slightly undetermined feeling encompassed my entire being, a mixture of sweet melancholy and subtle sentimental longing with a hint of excitement. My mind became aware of an approaching finale of a certain personal era, while my consciousness captured mental shots of a moment in time - one that might never ever repeat itself again....
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.