My country is not only news and alarming headlines.

It is fields where delicate greenery reaches for the sun in spring 🌱.

It is endless golden wheat, swaying like the sea.
It is the scent of apples in the orchard when you walk barefoot through the damp grass.
It is the laughter of children in the courtyards, which sounds the same as before, despite everything.

The beauty of my country is in its people.
In their strength, in their stubborn desire to live, love, build, and help each other.
Even on the hardest days, I see how people never lose their kindness. How they share their last piece of bread, how they hug each other, how they smile through their tears. 🌹

Yes, we have pain, we have loss.

But isn't this where the special power of beauty lies?
It's that it doesn't fade even when everything seems destroyed.
It's that it reminds us: after every night, there will always be morning, and after winter, spring. 🌸

I believe that my country is like a woman.

Tender and fragile at first glance, but strong and unbending inside.

It knows how to suffer, but it also knows how to blossom.

It knows how to cry, but it also knows how to laugh so loudly that its laughter drowns out even the thunder of war.

And you know, I think: this is the real miracle.
We may lose homes, roads, even cities...
But we will never lose the soul of our land.
It is within us. In each of us.

And as long as we're alive, it's alive too. ❤️

So when people ask me, "Is your country still beautiful?" I smile.

Of course it is.

Because its beauty isn't just in its landscapes, but in its heart.

And a heart, if it loves, is always beautiful. 🌺