Riding a bicycle early Sunday morning.

 Blog 1 / 23.05.23

On Sunday morning I woke up earlier than usual – half five. I decided to have an early morning ride on my bicycle to experience that wonderful silence, seeing Nature waking up and sunrise in the countryside. 

And it was so, so amazing experience. As I rode through tiny country lanes it seemed I’m the only person in this world. There were no cars and no humans to meet, but just nature only.

 I saw Sun rising gradually above the trees and white mist still covering the fields.

 I met a flock of cows that were cropping the grass on the field in a cow pen. They were interested, in who I am and came closer to me. I adored their uncontaminated minds of not running away, but approaching me as their stranger.

 After forty minute ride on my bike, I returned home and took a cold shower.

 A new day could start.

 Did you know that riding a bicycle is good for your mental health, keeps you fit and makes you happy?

Creative writing session 1

Blog 2 / 26.05.23

I went for a creative writing session late Thursday afternoon and I met wonderful people. I had never been there before. They inspired me not give to up on plans I have set up.

A gentleman asked me to write a short brainstormed story about anything I wanted and that is what I wrote:

Cars are passing the café wide window as moments in my life. I think I have to take a camera and capture everything I see.

It might be too much to remember, my memory says, it will be too much to take.

It is cloudy outside. Green leaves are dressing up naked trees.

The sky is cloudy and calm not like my soul. It needs to get out and do. It has been privileged to have a body as its tool.

I look at the yellowish building over the road. I know it has a story to tell me. Oh! I wish it could have a mouth. It could talk, but it's muted. It sucks in itself sourness and happiness never saying a word.

Creative writing session 2

Blog 3 /24.08.23

 This is from my other writing session with the Serendipity Writers Organisation afternoon meeting.

 I do not know if is it sunrise or sunset. 

The sun can barely break through naked tree branches.

 I listen carefully but do not hear anything apart from dead silence. 

 The window is cracked open.

 It feels cold.

 I scan the room with my eyes.

 There is nothing much to see.

 On a pale wall, a picture is hanging. There is a bitten apple drawn on it. It is left on a wooden table.

 I see a door next to the painting. 

It has been left open.

 I gaze at the door gap and I can see pitch-black darkness.

 A question strikes my mind. How did I get here?