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
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
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
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
Peace, for someone simple like me, is not something big. It’s not silence everywhere. It’s not a perfect life. Peace is coming home and feeling your shoulders relax without even noticing. Peace is not having to defend yourself. Not having to explain. Just breathing normally a
Sometimes it’s just a smile. Nothing special. Nothing meant. Someone passes by, looks at you, and smiles. And the day shifts. You feel lighter. More awake. More alive. Not because something changed outside, but because something moved inside. Energy travels like that. Without e
It took time to write this. Not because the words were hard to find, but because the feeling didn’t want to be explained. Some of the most beautiful feelings can’t be described. Not because words are missing, but because words aren’t made for that. Words are for listening.
Yesterday I was walking in my usual woods.It started raining. Normally, that’s the moment I get annoyed.Because it wasn’t planned.Because it interrupts. But yesterday was different. Instead of rushing,instead of complaining,I slowed down. I felt the rain on my face.I listened
Many people told us the same thing. “Your photos need to be perfect.” “Perfect light.” “Perfect angle.” “Perfect mood.” Otherwise, they said, there’s no market. No attention. No future. We listened. And then we didn’t. Because Fuerpa was never about perfection
