Many people think that this is just an excuse. That I'm shy or don't like myself in photos. It's funny. This is not about that at all 😉

I thought for a long time whether to share this story. Because it is hard to believe, even for me and I was a participant in it. But sometimes there are things that just need to be told, especially to someone who can understand… or at least try.😔

Today I want to tell you frankly about my most difficult and important process, how I learn to accept myself. Not perfect, not perfect, but real.

I want to share the scenario of my "ideal" day, how I spend it when I want to feel in harmony with myself, my body and the world. It might be useful.

Flowers are not always about gifts. Sometimes they are an answer to a bad day. Or a desire to feel the taste of life again.

About how the interior is not copying someone else's, but a reflection of states. Where to look for atmosphere, not ideas, and what helps to make a house yourself.

A warm, slightly mischievous story about how simple food becomes a moment of self-care.

A stream of inspiration in which simple actions turn into small summer joys.

I am a woman who knows how to love. I don't play a role - I just am.

A personal list of things, collected with love for details, which make up the real pleasure of summer.

A story about how a few pots of greenery can change your morning, your mood, and even your sense of self. Not about gardening, but about the feelings that arise next to the living.

An observation about how easily we complicate simple joys — and how to bring their lightness back, especially on a warm day on the grass.

An inspiring list of places where the sand is not only golden, but the feeling is like from another world. Beaches that you will remember forever.

No, it’s not about bed. Although… sometimes about it too

In a life where everything changes — countries, people, even the weather in Krakow — there is one thing that consistently makes me stronger. It’s training.

I wake up early. A cup of coffee with almond milk. Stretching by the window. And in my head - a fantasy. About you. More precisely, about what you could be.

Maybe it is a little bold. But I'm not one of those who will sit and wait for years. I'm for the living - for what touches, worries, excites.

When people tell me, "You're too young to understand," I just smile.

Sometimes it seems to me that I started living not when I was born, but when I moved. To a new country. With new fears.

It's almost an electric shock.