Today I looked up and saw this tree. A few months ago it was almost bare. Just branches. No colors. No leaves. And yet nothing was wrong with it. It was simply winter. We often forget that we are allowed to have winters too. Moments when things fall. Moments when we feel empty. B
The light came in quietly this morning. It didn’t ask for attention. It just changed the room. And somehow, it changed me too. — Fuerpa Slow Journal
This little house looks like it was made for children. Small walls. Bright colors. A tiny door. And yet— to a child, nothing feels small. It feels big. It feels endless. It feels like the whole world can live inside it. I grew up in a small house too. Old walls. Simple rooms. W
“Hi mom.”“Hi dad.” “Yes, everything is fine.”“Yes, work is good.”“No, don’t worry.” The calls are always short. Five minutes.Ten at most. Life sounds simple on the phone. You hang upand everything feels normal. Until one dayyou see them again. A little more
“What’s your name?” “Erjon.” A pause.A confused look. “Elio,” he says.It’s easierin a countrywhere his real namesounds strange. He arrived there when he was young. A new language.A new way of speaking.A new way of living. And new eyeslooking at himas someone who d
When I was a child, my uncle once gave me a small bird. Nothing expensive. Nothing rare. Just a little bird I could hold in my hands. And for me it was the greatest joy. I remember how light it felt. How carefully I held it. How something so small could feel so big. That [&hellip
This morning, on my way to work, I heard the slow call of a dove. And suddenly I remembered something. I used to hear that sound every morning before going to school. It made the day feel lighter before it even began. And in the afternoon I would hear it again, and it felt like [
There are days on the calendar that remind us to celebrate love.They are beautiful, meaningful, and sometimes necessary.But love itself does not belong to a date. Love is not an appointment.Love is a state of being. As Roberto Benigni once expressed, love is not something that ex
I decided to write my wishes. My dreams. My thoughts. My favorite words. The sentences that belong to me. I decided to share them. To say them. To keep them clear and transparent. To give them… and to receive. Because maybe a piece of me is also a piece of you. Not to show them
Sometimes it takes nothing. A name. A smell. The air on your skin. The sound of birds somewhere far. A voice in the distance. A ringtone you haven’t heard in years. And suddenly something moves inside you. Not a thought. A feeling. A memory that doesn’t ask permission. A mome
