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Wednesday, July 8
We grow. We change. The yearsquietly move on. Yet somehow, every timesomething risesinto the sky, a part of usstill follows. — Fuerpa Slow Journal
Nothing to reach
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
Don’t lose your direction
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.
You were never like them
Friday, April 3 You were never like them. You tried to fit in.To think the same.To move the same. But something always felt off. Not wrong. Just… different. Like you were meantfor another rhythm. Another way. And maybe that’s the point. Not to become like everyone else. But t
It’s already happening
Friday, March 27 You don’t hear it growing. There’s no noise.No sign. Nothing that tells youit’s happening. And still… something is changing. Maybe you don’t see it yet. Maybe you don’t feel it yet. But it’s there. Slowly.Quietly. Just like this tree. And maybewe’
You’ll find it when you’re ready
Wednesday, March 25 Everything in lifearrives at the right time. Not when you force it.Not when you rush it. Sometimes… it’s not about losing it. It’s just not yours yet. Some things can’t be chased. They can only be found. — Fuerpa Slow Journal
Its own light
Sunday, March 22 Some things are not just made. They are felt. Some things…have their own light. And somehow… they find their wayto the right person. Splendore, by Fuerpa
Home will always be where you are
No matter how far life takes me, no matter how much I grow, or how much I change… there is one place that never moves. It’s not a house. It’s not a city. It’s you. That quiet place where I don’t have to be perfect. Where my mistakes don’t define me. Where I’m still
Saturday, March 7
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
Sunday, February 22
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
