Today I came across an old book, and it had a story I'd never heard before, even though I live in Kyiv.

It was about how in old Kyiv there once were "quiet courtyards-wells"—places between houses where sound seemed to disappear.

People said that if you stood in the center of one of these courtyards at night, you could hear... not the city. But yourself.

At first, I smiled—it sounded like a legend. But then it was written there that in such courtyards, people often made important decisions: leaving, returning, falling in love, saying goodbye... as if the silence intensified what was inside 🤍

And this strangely struck a chord with me.

Because I thought:
Even now, in the middle of a big city, there are sometimes moments... when you're walking down the street and suddenly it becomes very quiet inside. Not outside—inside you.

And you no longer hear the noise of the city. Only your own thoughts.

I closed the book and just sat for a long time.

It's funny, but I realized I live in a city that, it turns out, holds more stories within itself than I'd ever noticed. Not just in museums or books... but right underfoot, in the courtyards, in the walls, in the silence 🌆

And the strangest thing is, after that, I just wanted to go out in the evening and stroll aimlessly. Just to experience the city differently.

Not as a route. And as a story that continues right now ✨

Sometimes it's the little things like these that make you truly see the familiar anew... 💫