Maybe we make it harderthan it needs to be. We often expect peopleto see things the way we do.To react the way we would.To understand what we meanwithout us having to explain it. But we are not made the same. We have different values,different backgrounds,different experiences,di
How many times did you hold your phoneand never make the call? How many messagesdid you write and never send? How many timesdid you want to say something but stayed quiet?How many things did you walk away frombefore they even had a chance to happen? Maybe you were afraid they wou
Maybe it’s someoneyou haven’t spoken toin a long time. Maybe it’s someoneyou still talk to every day,but somehowit doesn’t sound the same anymore. Maybe it’s your own voicefrom a timewhen you didn’t think so muchbefore speaking. The strange thing about voicesis that t
Another hour in the morning.A longer summer.One more night before going home.A few more years feeling young. And we want freedom too. To leave when we want.To stay when we want.To change direction.To start again. But time keeps movingwhether we feel free or not. That’s the stra
We say it all the time. “I wish I knew this sooner.” But maybewe couldn’t have. We weren’t bornknowing how life works. We had to live it. To try. To change. To understand thingswe weren’t readyto understand before. And yes,sometimes we realize thingslater than we wish w
Somewhere along the way, we started believingthat slowing downmeant we weren’t doing enough. So we fill every hour. Every silence. Every empty space. As if being busywas the only wayto provewe are living. But mayberestingwas never meantto be earned. Maybe it’ssimplypart of us
We grow. We change. The yearsquietly move on. Yet somehow, every timesomething risesinto the sky, a part of usstill follows. — Fuerpa Slow Journal
For a long time, I thought life would start when everything was in place. When I had more answers.More certainty.More time. I kept waiting for the moment everything would finally make sense. I didn’t realize life was already happening. Quietly.In imperfect moments.In ordinary d
Thursday, April 9 There’s nothing to reach here. No finish line.No direction to follow. And still… this feels right. Like being hereis already enough. No noise.No rush. Just spaceto breathe. Maybe freedomis not a place. Maybe it’s this. — Fuerpa Slow Journal
Saturday, April 4 Sometimes, everything changes in a second. What felt stable… breaks.What felt certain… disappears. And for a moment,you lose control. You lose clarity. But not everything is meant to stay the same. What mattersis what remains. Your direction. Your Traguardo.
