Christmas is over and the Christmas tree had to be put down. SInce it was hot glued on the wall (see here )while being put down from it left the marks on the wall. To cover those (instead of repainting the wall, which will be painted at the end of project in Santo Domingo (few more months)) marks I came up with an idea to hang some nice painting instead. One night, when miss went to sleep I made this piece of art that I acutely really like.

I call this painting In the cubes. Red color is announcing the heath we are momently in and cubes are buildings that we live in. Santo Domingo is town where life is going on only in the buildings – malls, yours or friends apartments/houses, museums, gyms and schools…

in cubes, santo domingo, 2014




I’ve never been so passionate about the Christmas as I am this year.  When I was younger my mother would make a really lovely big deal about holiday’s time but since I am rebellious kind-of-a-girl, I was refusing to sink into the Christmas time. My mother would usually bake so many things (she’s passionate about baking pies and cakes) from sweets up to dinners and so on. There is one thing that specially remained in my mind, Christmas Eve dinner. She would serve us with cooked beans only in water and bake the bread in which she would put coin in that had a function to crown you as the superior of the house for upcoming year if you had luck to get that coin in your piece of bread.  I was always hoping it will be me year after year and by some weird chance my father always got it. I thought that was odd, guessing why always my dad has to be the one in charge? Kid’s mind can be powerful and very imaginative. Christmas Eve dinner was so minimalistic and I loved it. I can still feel the taste of it in my mouth. This custom of my mother’s is coming from her ancients and she kept and passed it on subconsciously on her children. She definitely did on me.

It took me few more years to realize that holidays are really something nice and to stop fighting that lovely and earnest feeling about decorating the tree and settling those little wrapped Christmas gifts underneath the tree.

And today I am sitting in a coffee shop, writing this post and rolling back my memories into the past mixing it with the present moments. Today I am a mother and I am making a big deal out of the Christmas. Yes it’s funny how I become so “overwhelmed” with it. My parents are believers and I am not. I stepped out from religion in my teenage years but I respected and am still respecting their devotion to the religion they share. So why does it make me to celebrate the Christmas as a non-believer? Does it make me a hypocrite because I want to enjoy all those lights and gift giving’s and listening songs? Does it make me celebrating holidays to hurt feelings of believers who think only believers should spread joy on “Jesus birthday”?

Well no, I don’t think I am being a hypocrite sharing my joy for those holidays and that special day. I believe in Santa Claus (and I always will) and because I haven’t been realizing that I could have fun sitting on the floor watching little beautiful light, observing my little girl trying to touch the ornaments and being amazed by them. I haven’t been realizing that those moments are really precious and worth not being forgotten. So I am just a human, who likes stories and the Christmas is one beautiful story.

Even today is Friday, twelve days away from the Christmas It’s feels like it is today and you can feel it in the air and it’s everywhere. It’s in this pastry shop with that plastic Santa Claus plugged into electricity so he would be able to open his big bag and pull fake the presents out and it is Christmas outside of pastry on the street where the sun is touching every corner of the town and there is no possibility of snow to smudge the Christmas I am memorizing.

Merry Christmas dear reader!

This video tells so much. I never think about it, and the Handprint, directed by Mary Nighy is a crazy reminder to let go our selfishness and to start appreciate hands we don’t see. We are usually blind consumers and we don’t see how our acting effect people around the world who help us to be healthy and beautiful.


letter-mother-daughter-old-young-black-white-spring-in-the-airEvery morning when we wake up there is a new day waiting for us to live it as we want. There is a new day to remind us about our human love towards the other people towards the nature towards the universe. Sometimes there are small things placed on your path to make you bigger in your heart. We tend to forget how we learned to live, we tend to forget beautiful and nice harmful acts people did to us and rather we are sticking to negativity thinking we are so harsh and strong wearing that mask narrated because we have to act that way to survive.

This beautiful morning I received an amazing reminder;                                                                                    A LETTER FROM MOTHER TO A DAUGHTER

“My dear girl, the day you see I’m getting old, I ask you to please be patient, but most of all, try to understand what I’m going through.

If when we talk, I repeat the same thing a thousand times, don’t interrupt to say: “You said the same thing a minute ago”… Just listen, please. Try to remember the times when you were little and I would read the same story night after night until you would fall asleep.

When I don’t want to take a bath, don’t be mad and don’t embarrass me. Remember when I had to run after you making excuses and trying to get you to take a shower when you were just a girl?

When you see how ignorant I am when it comes to new technology, give me the time to learn and don’t look at me that way… remember, honey, I patiently taught you how to do many things like eating appropriately, getting dressed, combing your hair and dealing with life’s issues every day… the day you see I’m getting old, I ask you to please be patient, but most of all, try to understand what I’m going through.

If I occasionally lose track of what we’re talking about, give me the time to remember, and if I can’t, don’t be nervous, impatient or arrogant. Just know in your heart that the most important thing for me is to be with you.

And when my old, tired legs don’t let me move as quickly as before, give me your hand the same way that I offered mine to you when you first walked.

When those days come, don’t feel sad… just be with me, and understand me while I get to the end of my life with love.

I’ll cherish and thank you for the gift of time and joy we shared. With a big smile and the huge love I’ve always had for you, I just want to say, I love you… my darling daughter.”



Last time I had a chance to meet a humble woman, Medyne. She is a member of IWC but as many as ladies are there I never came earlier towards her name. I am posting short interview with her published in magazine I am editing in SD (Spotlight).

Her fast English mixed with a Haitian accent, which btw I love, was confusing for me at start but in within 5 minutes of our conversation I caught the flow and we started.


Medyne 2


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