The harbor

I love to sit in the harbor. I call it mine, but… it is not mine. I have there just a spot, to take photos, or just to sit down. In the harbor which is small, calm and not deep. Perfect for a short swim, perfect for few seagulls which do not care for me, few sparrows and brown ducks. So brown, that even gold…

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And few old boats.

Wooden.

Colorful.

Funky colorful.

They are my paint, wind is my brush, and seaweeds bits and pieces of wood, are so called mixed media. Yeah, recently I prefer to take photos than to paint. Paint, good brushes, soft and funny, canvases and all that stuff costs lots of cash. And place… yeah I need a lot of place to paint, get dirty, and can not do it outside, because paint dries too quickly. Sooo… I take photos. A lot of them. Like my camera was glued to my fingers. And yesterday my camera died, what will kill me. Because I can not just repair it, not here.

And buying new one?

For what?

Smiles?

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I can spend hours just taking photos. Just waiting for a perfect light, perfect wave. Looking for seaweeds jumping up and down on the blue sea… between funny reflections. I can spend hours in one spot. Waiting for a special wave, for a sparkle for perfectly round drops… for something what will make me CLICK!

Feeling almost… happy.

How the heck can I be so patient? But only when it comes to light and colors… sooo, you can often see me in my harbor. Very often. Even now when my Island is full of tourists. And is a bit loud and messy… Even now.

PS. Sending huge THANK YOU to Vitlycke Museum. And Karin!!! I have my pendant back! It is not the same… but still mine!!!

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What would you do?

In fact. What would you do hearing someone screaming? On a dark street, maybe at night, maybe just misty day, or normal, bright and so called… happy one? What would you do? Rush to help? Run away?

Call the police?

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The truth is… running to help can end with your death. Yes, you will be called a hero, newspapers will write about you for a day, and then, everyone will forget. Some even will call you stupid…

So, what would you do?

I yelled once… when someone was dragging me into bushes. People around (bright day, lots of people, clean park, families, kids) looked at me like I made a sin. Stole their calmness and happiness. Maybe a free day. Maybe some plans, like a blanket on a grass, picnic maybe? Talking, walking and being together. And I destroyed their perfect day. I saw it in their eyes… and I shut up.

I struggled and managed to run away. My dress was torn, but I was only touched in too many places… ONLY? I run away thanks to my voice. See, I am short, but I can scream. Really loud when scared or pissed. But the truth is, I yelled only because I had my earphones on, very loud. Without them, I could be just a mice. Trying not to mess with all those perfect families around me. I could say nothing.

I could… so yes, this scream happened to me to. It was only touching, some… so it was not THAT, but what if? Who would help me?

I now prefer people not to see me. Not make a move towards me. Not to make a contact. I do away, always choose the walls, which can at least save my back. And somehow I thought it is clear, that if someone runs away you do not follow him or her. You do not push, rape her space… but now, in the world of no empathy I think people… they feel wounded animal – me, and attack. They wanna end someone has started.

Had it few days ago. Have it very often.

So… what would you do if I start to scream only because you approach too close to me? Would you understand? Or would you just slap me? Offend me? Call me a madwoman? Once I met a woman who looked at me, and asked: who hurt you? And I did not know what to answer.

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Waterlilies

I look at them and think about her… Calineczka. Or wait, how she was named in English? Thumbelina? You know, the one perfect little girl from one of the most amazing stories by Hans Christian Andersen. Tiny one, amazing one, which had to go thru so much to find her own love, and grow up…

To be someone not just a tiny and precious addition.

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And waterlilies look like they just gave birth to many of them. When I close my eyes I see them. Little, scared girls. Suddenly left by petals which look so fake, so plastic like, but when you look closer, you see the mathematical perfection. Not just beauty, but something more. Something from a higher shelf of science… And of course I see the ladies waiting for their daughters. Oh they look fancy. They wear their best dresses, and best hats. But also… biggest expectations. Because a child must be not only perfect, not only better than others kids, not only most flawless, most beautiful, most amazingly build but also can be smart… Yeah, smart is not that important, right?

Just the look.

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Mothers, future mums around the pond, but which one thumbelina to choose? Bigger or smaller, with golden hair or silver, blue or yellow? Will she suit to my fancy bag and to a car so big and to a house with modern decore… Will she be okay with all those pieces which are already so perfectly glued to my every day?

Will she? Good, that she is tiny, so if mummy is bored, she can just put little girl away. To forget. To just not care. Just leave her a drop of water and one candy. To make her look good on Instagram photos. When she will like to take one? When she will be in a mood to be mother again.

Because everything is now an accessory.

Even kids… even them.

PS. Why I am so pessimistic again? Because I found out about books of eggs. Catalogs of ladies and their eggs which are for sale. Who choose from? White or black, long hair or shorter, intelligent or maybe only artistic? Believing or not? And of course those fields of surrogates. More like farms of course, but I like to look at those ladies as trees which just get one bee… and produce one or few fruits. For everyone who has money. Not necessary love… Yeah. I am old-fashioned. Or maybe normal?

That scares me.

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Things

Things should not be important, only people…

How often do you hear it?

I mean really?

How often you think those times we are living in are only about things, gadgets and materialism? How often? All the time, right? Do you feel guilty buying something? Oh yes, some of you do…

Do I?

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I wear my clothes until they fall apart, have now only 2 pairs of shoes, I do not care about labels, only about cotton which will not burn my skin, healthy… but sometimes even I get so attached to things. I feel safer with them. Somehow they become a piece of me, amulets even? Am I materialistic then? Like with this black dream catcher, which I felt so mine… Now, hanging above my head while I sleep… I can not stop touching it, I can not stop thinking about it. It is so me, so crow like. I really love dream catchers, but this one tickled a piece of me, I thought disappeared.

But there is something more.

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Those two… one I had for almost a half year. Little My. The other, silver hjulkors/solkors/suncross only for two weeks. The clasp opened, broke in fact, and I lost both of them. Into the sea. I still feel like mourning. I still feel weird pain, and I should not, because those were only things, but still… the cross I brought from Sweden, and… Little My luckily for me, my dear Husband bought again. But still…

I feel this weird pain.

Feeling of lost.

I should not, right? So why I do?

Some naive tribes had those customs to give away everything what was left after someones death. Except books. Because books were those pieces which were connected with the soul. Also pieces, which deceased had always so close were burnt with him or just destroyed… so maybe things are important? Maybe there is a moment… when they attach to us, and in fact we become one?

Weird?

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Mighty fear

I have it in me… again.

That fear.

That weird, strong and paralyzing, but also in the same time shaking all my body, choking me. I can not breath, in fact, I do not know what to do with myself, how to fight it… it just happens and all I can do is breath, or try to go out and take photos. But this time squatting and lying head down did not help…

Maybe it is this wind?

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Or maybe, what is more possible, I have feelings… visions in me. You know, all hat stuff psychiatrist got pills for.

That something is coming, something will happen, something… and because the most annoying thing about me is this, that I am always right, so I am right. Correct, and totally true. Something is coming.

But what?

I have this fear.

Weird, but also sometimes creative, because even scared, and shaky, all I wanna do is to work. To not think about it… exercise, get tired. It does not help, but can make me survive it. Can… but will this time? Maybe not? Maybe finally, this will stay forever. And will never go away. It always shuts me. That it can not end this time. And… when you are someone who has eating disorders, who feels better when cuts herself or burns, or who has depressions and stages of fear since being a kid… it is something what can be very dangerous. But… most of artists got it, right?

So… remember you can buy my art. It can help me get better pills!!! LOL Do not look at prices, just look at paintings, and just ask me if the price can be different. It is easy. Or my photos from here, my Facebook Kobaltowa Wrona, IBornholm and blog bornholmdifferent.dk – it is only 150DKK, paypal, and you will get a photo to print it however you want it. Or maybe you will frame it and have OOAK gift? For someone you love or hate… have just feelings for.

PS. Here have something tasty and optimistic… fish and chips from Svaneke!!! Awesome. And you eat them looking at the sea, lighthouse, and the sky. Just omnomnomnomnnnnnnnn.

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Juli?

But… but how can it be Juli already? I mean really? Someone is messing with time, totally! Trust me. I am not ready for summer. Although… I am ready for autumn and winter, so maybe it is okay?

Maybe?

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So it is Juli, okay July, have some Danish.

Not that it changes anything?

There is a thick mist around me, and lovely rain, so it is okay. Not too hot, not even too warm if I must be true. It is panties weather – if you work at home LOL – bu still you should have a blouse somewhere around you, close, or a thin blanket. But this mist, this thick milky, cold mist always fascinates me. I mean always. It is like all the souls combined together to let you finally see something very important. To be focused on this, what you have forgotten… you. Nope, there is nothing selfish in taking care of you. Because if you know how to deal with things, if you train it on yourself… one time you can tell someone how it was, and maybe help him solve one or two problems, soo… I love this mist. Mist closing me in a small bauble, where suddenly I can hear myself.

And also answer…

PS. We have a new priest in town. Yeah, as a pagan, or more like someone who is fond of cultural anthropology, I am crazy about it. Just look how cute the priest is. Just look…  See, I thought that here, in Danmark, people will not care about the fact the priest has boobs. I thought so… Oh my, I was so wrong!!! For me, as someone raised in a scary catholic Poland, she is something so refreshing. I do not know her, but looking at her sermons and way of life, I think she is intelligent and really interesting. She has heart and mind on right places. Still… people here are semi glad. Or more like less glad only because she is… she. Oh the horror!!! LOL

How the heck we women scare others so much? I mean really? How does it work? And why we do not use it more? LOL

Here… have some ice cream.

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They don’t die!!!

Of course I know he was 91, soo… I should expect this, but still the information about death of Michael Bond made of me a sad little “crowbear”. Yeah. I am half bear half crow, somehow. It happens when you are… weird. Or special, or unusual, or just you. But in fact, trust me, he is not dead. Because those who write, create, especially authors of books which touched our hearts, they never die.

It is impossible!!!

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I remember my first time.

I was few years old in still communistic Poland… someone brought from abroad or more like it was send by some nice soul… booklets, little adverts of/about Paddington Bear. I do still remember me, getting nothing from what was written there, but seeing that little fluffy guy in his hat and coat, with that brown suitcase. Asking others about Peru. I had those cards for so long. They disappeared with one of our moving adventures, but I still remember this feeling. See, since I was tiny, or more like just a zygote, I was reading. Books were a huge part of my life, almost everything and bears and crows. In fact those three pieces easily created an adult me. Adult still loving Paddington. The Bear who in fact always has his own ideas, things he loved, and always knew what he was up to. Oh yes, of course when you got paws and claws things can easily go not right, but still… this is how he wanted to live, love and… eat.

So nope. Dear Mister Bond, Michael Bond… you are not dead.

Not to me.

I always can open one of your books. You will be forever a piece of me.

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Are colors kitsch?

Did you notice, that all those modern, fancy and in fashion homes and interiors are now black and white. Simple, hard, so nonhuman. Suddenly this is the only thing called art. White and black.

Simple.

Tough.

In fact not moving your imagination.

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Does it mean colors are kitsch now?

Funny thing… once upon a time some people – archaeologists, thought all Roman and ancient Greeks sculptures where just stone. In fact just white, marble, a bit grey or light peachy. You know… clean. When one expedition found leftovers of colors on them… well, they tried to remove it, because it was so not it. It was not something they wanted to show to the world. The world which fall in love in simple stone sculptures. Amazing and stunning, so perfectly created… but not so when colored.

Suddenly now only black and white photos are called art. When you see them with colors, before filters, well… that lighting, that creations, perspective, all this does not matters anymore. It must be black and white to be fancy and… expensive. Does it mean colors do not matter anymore? Or maybe people stopped getting them? Having fun with them? Or maybe, what is the most probable, is that people follow stuff newspapers and TV told them fancy is… and here is the problem. So now we got too many flamingos in decor and too much palm leaves. They are everywhere.

Why people are so afraid to like something else? Like me 😉 LOL Like me. I am something else. OOAK.

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Doors

Doors.

For so many of you such a simple thing. Do you even look at them, or just open and close. Look for keys, swear when they are missing. But when it comes to doors… do you still see them. I mean really? Because when it comes to windows, they are see thru, so you can be easily interested what is inside, but doors… they are not that easy. They are a portal to another world. Maybe not yours… maybe the one you should not pass thru? Maybe… because a home should be a safe place. One and only. Ages ago when people were building one, one for a whole life, they were putting sacrifices under the corners, or just in front of the future doors. Some tribes still bring back their dead relatives and dig them under the floor, just to be always, forever together…

But we nowadays move so often. So you have your family home? I do not. There were so many of them…

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Okay, when it comes to doors, I have a special crush on them. Like with windows, I find them interesting, I love them colorful and special. I love mine decorated all year round. And  I am so into this doors mystery. All those customs: not to welcome someone thru a doorstep, cleaning them for a good luck, putting herbs there, always have them close like rosemary and thyme… and of course carrying your lady when you step into for a first time as a husband and wife.

Doors always should have a step or few, but not too many. They should not be on a path level, but also should be inviting, never clothed, with a clean but wavy path…

But the most important magic are colors.

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Green for a good luck, money, abundance. Like trees, woods, nature…

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Turquoise one for those special, who wanna be seen, but also safe. Wooden often parted in two, because you know, you could talk with someone, but also not to get him inside. You could be safe, but also polite…

And then come those special. Not so common, but with one of strongest magic… Red – bloody red for protection. Hiding fire behind them and strong personalities.

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And my fav ever… cobalt blue. These one I want to have in my home if I ever have one for my own. If ever… Old people say these are one of the most powerful. Protect from evil spirits, get only good come inside, and also tell all those around, that the one living here is special. Very special. I will have them once, I will!

Right?

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PS. A special gift for Jul here in Danmark are dwarf’s doors. Small, which you glue to the wall, close to a floor. Sweet and cute. More magic…

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News from my Island

Well, in fact there is not much… we had some things going on and some not going on. We have a windy weather, but in fact it is not that hot as it used to be last year. We fight for a tree, but nobody listens… If you want to help us, please sign the petition. It goes from the top: name, surname, city and email. Nothing wrong will happen. But one linden tree can be saved. It should not be like they want, to change a piece of green into some art… art, which in fact could truly find another place to be worshiped. We have plenty of places it could be put, if there is a must, but they do not listen.

I mean those up there.

Here is the tree – main photo. Here are photos of the art, which in fact is only a plastic copy of a round church – we have 4 on Bornholm, made of stones not plastic of course, old. And art as this should not be on a busy road if so… tree will at least do something with the air, that so called art… well can only disturb. And how tourists are suppose to use it? They can not touch it or take a photo with it if it is on a roundabout.

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Except this… well it is summer, so we have more tourists. My Island is stuffed with tents and caravans. With people I do not know. With loud noises and cyclists which are not very nice, and in fact do not care about the traffic law. But it is all. We have it every year. The Season. it started…

And done.

I love it!

I do love it, that we have nothing more. We do still have problems with Russian u boot, American planes trying shoosh them, and this weird fear, that Putin wanna take Bornholm from Danmark, but it is all. The rest is green, wavy and birdy. My crows are crazy, fighting with seagulls about every piece which is possible to eat. And that is all… herbs are dancing with the wind, roses are red, purple, pink and yellow…

Why… why we can not stay just calm, hard working, and clean, and green, and ecological. Especially with this wind?

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