A small reflection about the quiet magic of winter and the spark it awakens inside us.

A small story about slowing down, sunlit gardens, and the quiet joy of an unexpected pause.

Sometimes the most peaceful places are just a few steps away — like the corner of a balcony where a new day begins.

Sometimes the quietest moments teach us the most about ourselves.

I’m really passionate about psychology because I love understanding how people think and feel. It helps me see the world from different perspectives and connect with others on a deeper level. Besides that, I enjoy dancing—it’s my way to express emotions and stay active. Whether it’s ballet, salsa, or just freestyle, dance brings me joy and energy. I’m also a big fan of cooking.

If there were an encyclopedia called “The Male Heart: Instructions for Use” 📘, it would sell out faster than tickets to a concert by your favorite band. But men come without instructions. Experience, however, is our best teacher.

Over the years, I have come to understand one simple truth: the best gift is not the one that is shiny, expensive, or fashionable. The best gift is the one that resonates in the soul. And not only in the soul of the recipient, but also in the soul of the giver.

Sometimes I feel like I have a built-in “emotion radar.” I walk into a room and immediately know who is angry, who is sad, and who just wants to eat. Is it convenient? Yes. Is it exhausting? Yes, that too.

Not because the problems aren't real. They're real. But because I realized I was spending more energy worrying than actually fixing anything. And that's just inefficiency, and I hate inefficiency.

She said, "Being a wife and mother doesn't mean losing yourself. It means finding yourself through loving others."

I wanted to be so sure about everything—sure about God, sure about my path, sure about what was right and wrong. Black and white. Simple 😔

When I moved to the city, I thought I'd lose who I was.

Like there was some invisible clock ticking and if I didn't have all the answers by twenty-five, I'd mess up my whole life 😅 But lately I've been thinking about something different.

I realized that I've spent so long being strong about the disappearances—accepting them, not making excuses, staying clear-eyed—that I haven't thought much about what happens after.

I was having a conversation with an older woman I know, and she told me about how she stopped accepting things in her marriage that didn't feel right. Not dramatically. She just started saying what she needed. And you know what? Her husband listened. He actually changed some things.

Today, many people feel like they're without a car. Freedom, comfort, and status - all of that is nice. But along with it comes the other side: expenses, repairs, insurance, taxes, fines, and parking.

2025 is coming to an end, and with it, Christmas is back - a warm holiday that many look forward to all year. Even if you don't consider yourself particularly religious, the Christmas atmosphere still captivates you: the lights, the music, the smell of tangerines, the anticipation of a miracle and a new beginning.

😁😁😁😁

Do you feel it too? It's as if the world has become quieter, softer, as if covered with a light layer of expectation. It always seems to me that small miracles begin precisely from the first day of winter. When you wake up, look out the window, and there is a cold sky and barely noticeable frost, and inside it suddenly becomes warmer.

I woke up today with a strange feeling, as if life was quietly hinting at something important. Not with promises, not with loud events, but with a light whisper somewhere under the ribs: "Try again... if you want."