🧥Today I finally took off my winter coat. It hung on my shoulders like someone else's story, heavy and not mine. I pulled out a light beige coat, a silk scarf the color of young leaves, and that very skirt that rustles when you walk, as if quietly applauding life. Spring clothes aren't about fashion. They're about breathing. About allowing yourself to be light.

💕I know for sure: somewhere, he feels this warmth too. A man I haven't met yet walks down the street and notices how the sun lingers on the shop windows longer than usual. Perhaps he, too, is smiling for no apparent reason, as if his heart had remembered something important.

🌷The N.N. Grishko National Botanical Garden will soon be blooming. In April, the magnolias awaken there - huge, like quiet promises. I'll go there early in the morning, when the city is still sleepy, and I'll watch the petals unfold, like slow thoughts of love. I will walk along the lilac-lined alleys, breathe in the damp air, and perhaps it is there that our steps will intersect.

📚When the last ice melts, the earth will become soft as a fresh page. The grass will cut through it with thin green lines, and the world will once again learn to speak with light. There will be more people in the parks, more laughter, more glances that accidentally linger longer than necessary. I will pick up a book and sit on a bench. Reading outdoors is like speaking to life without words.

✨Spring doesn't ask about age. It simply opens the windows. And if the heart still knows how to respond to the light, then everything is yet to come.

❤️I don't seek love in despair. I encounter it along the way - as warmth on my skin, as the scent of wet earth, as the first leaf that knows its time to emerge.

🌸This spring, I choose to be alive again. And somewhere nearby, I know he is doing the same.