Winter has taught me one important habit - to get up before the city wakes up. While the windows are still covered in a thin pattern of ice, I light a small lamp, brew a hot tea, and give myself five minutes of silence. At this time, the outside world seems to stop. There is no noise from the roads, no rush, no endless plans in my head. There is only the frosty air seeping into the room and the light glow of the morning sun that has just touched the roof opposite.

I have noticed that it is in winter that mornings become especially honest. They show how tired we are, how much we need rest, and at the same time remind us that even in the coldest months we can create warmth for ourselves. My warmth is in small rituals: woolen socks, the scent of cinnamon, a short entry in the diary.

And you know what the strangest thing is? These short winter mornings have become my way of keeping balance. They teach me not to plan my day perfectly, but to allow myself to be. Just be.