Picnic is a word that smells like sun and strawberries. But sometimes we turn it into a project. Lists, bags, logistics. I did it too. Until one day I went to the park with a friend who only had a blanket and two croissants. It was the best picnic of the entire summer.

It turned out that all you need is to choose a shady corner, bring something that tastes good to you, and let go of control. Not perfect photos, not Instagram napkins, not porcelain plates. Just you, food, air, and a little time.

I like to take green apples and something with cinnamon with me. A playlist is a must. Not for speakers — for headphones. Sometimes you just lie on your back, listen and watch the clouds fly by.

A picnic is a place where you can forget about makeup, put on the most ridiculous dress and not explain to anyone why you smile while looking at the sky. It's eating with your hands. It's grass prints on your feet. It's bread, slightly warm from the sun, and lemonade that slightly spilled in your bag.

Sometimes, when I want to escape the city, I don't book tickets or look for hotels. I just go to the park, where it already smells of grass, not worries.