They say freedom is a feeling. For me, it’s a red dress, a summer breeze, and the thrill of choosing myself first.

Sometimes you can miss someone you’ve never met. This blog is a quiet reflection on longing, faith in connection, and the soft hope that love knows its way.

It is when someone remembers what flowers you love. When spring comes and you suddenly want to write letters, weave wreaths, walk barefoot across the lawn and believe that love lives in the details... 💌🌷

Morning fitness energizing and invigorating! Try it, you won't regret it.

Yoga fills us with harmony, try it and you will realize that miv is inside you! and it is beautiful!

my little journey... love yourself! love the world!

A slow, sensual look into the beauty of quiet mornings — when time stands still, the coffee is warm, and the world feels soft. I share my morning ritual, emotions, and the dreamy thoughts that come with waking up... maybe not alone.

Here's the strange thing - I didn't think I would be so worried about the election of the Pope. It would seem that the event is not so unexpected, and yet... something inside seems to be trembling. Like before a thunderstorm - when it is still quiet, but you already feel that the sky will change.

I walked home today. Slowly. On purpose. Step by step, without hurry. People were overtaking me, cars were honking, time was rushing by - and it was as if I had fallen out of the race.

Spring is the time when everything comes to life.

Sometimes spotless order feels cold and empty, while a touch of chaos brings warmth and life. Scattered books on the coffee table, socks discarded on the chair, mugs bearing dried coffee rings—all remind you that someone truly lives here. Disorder seems to whisper: “Welcome to my world, where sterile neatness has no place.”

Imagine a bustling train station, the echo of footsteps and the hum of announcements. People rush to catch their trains or look for familiar faces. I stand in the corner of the platform, gently leaning against the railing: headphones in, a thick book in my hands, my eyes hidden behind the pages. I bite my lip slightly, feeling a little nervous as if the whole world exists just outside my thoughts. You walk by. My mind drifts, but I keep reading.

Society demands confidence, strength, and success—but real beauty shines through where there are no filters: in our goofy snores, the soft rustle of blankets, and the pure joy of binge‑watching a favorite show. Perhaps true freedom lies not in perfection, but in embracing our weirdness—being funny, tender, and even a bit strange.

Maybe true closeness isn’t in perfect words but in daring to break the silence. In that instant when one of you finally types, “I miss you,” or “Talk to me, please,” the fortress crumbles. That single confession—the fragile, unfiltered truth—becomes the loudest declaration of all.

Nothing dramatic happened. No one owes anyone anything. But there’s that strange, aching pause. One that no playlist, no rebound conversation, not even chocolate can fill.

When people hear: "I am a photographer", most often they imagine someone who clicks photos at sunset, hangs out at weddings or takes cute pictures in a cafe. But in reality, photography is not about clicking. It's about vision. About the feeling of the moment. About the feeling of life in the frame.

Maybe you'll look at farming differently.💖💋

I already have the greatest happiness - my children 💖 They wake me up every morning with their "mom" 👶, hug me for no reason 🤗, ask thousands of questions ❓ and look at the world with such sincerity that it is impossible not to love ✨

So. He's a typical hero: tattoos, a bike, shady stories and at least three exes, one of whom is still listed in his phone as "just Lena." And she? Of course, she thinks that her love will save him. Well, who else?

They say that age is best shown in four things: old wood is for burning, old wine is for drinking, old friends are for trusting, and old authors are for reading. Beautiful, wise... and damn true.