Sometimes I just take the keys and leave. Without a navigator, without a goal, without a plan. Yesterday was exactly like that. I was driving along winding roads, winking at oncoming headlights, with disheveled hair and open windows. The music was old, a playlist from the times when I believed in eternity. It was hot, but pleasant.

Somewhere outside the city, I stopped at a small market. Almost no one, only an elderly woman with baskets and a child who was eating boiled corn. I bought three peaches. So ripe that the juice flowed down my fingers even before the first bite.

I sat on the hood of the car and ate them, looking at the field. No one knew where I was. My phone was in the glove compartment. And at that moment I didn't need anything - no conversation, no company, no signal. Just the sun on my skin, the wind in my hair and the taste of sweet, sticky summer.

Maybe happiness isn't stability or predictions. But these spontaneous stops. Unexpected peaches. Silence that tastes better than words. And a road that you don't necessarily know where it leads to.