I live in Miami — the sun is here even when the mood is cloudy. I work as a realtor, helping people find their ideal homes. Sometimes it seems to me that this is not just a profession, but almost a psychological mission — after all, everyone is not looking for square meters, but a place where they will be happy.

I showed the apartment to a young couple today. They had just gotten married, and they were having such a touching argument about where to put the sofa and how to decorate the kitchen.
I stand there, listening to them, and I find myself thinking, that's how great it is to have “us.”

I love my job, I love this city — noisy, lively, with sea air and eternal sunsets. But more and more often I think that I want to transfer not only the keys to other people's apartments, but someday from my own.
The one where there will be shared morning coffee, laughter and comfort for no reason.

I guess I just believe that one day I will show the house not to clients, but to my own person. And I'll say, "Here's our ocean view." 🌊