With only a few warm weeks here and there, this summer has been one of the coldest ones on record. The sun holds enough heat to warm up the ground during the day, yet the cold arctic air streaming until very recently straight from the North Pole has kept our nights unseasonably cool and our mornings defined by dew, the droplets of which hold a hidden beauty to be found by an early riser.
Our lawn is full of miniature spiders which spin their invisible, tiny webs in the twilight of the white nights. Their masterpieces are usually unseen to the human eye. Yet, morning dew and even soft rain visualize these silky, fragile architectures for a few hours upon dawn. Resembling glass beads threaded on silk, one can marvel over this natural wonder of nature, before the sun burns the water droplets away, hiding these treasures from our view, as if they never even existed at all ...
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.