With every year, the noise grows small, And softer things begin to call. No throne to chase, no race to win Just peace enough to dwell within. The heart unlearns what youth once knew, And gathers only what is true. A gentle laugh, a hand held near, The kind of love that stays sincere. A lamp-lit home, a simple meal, The warmth of moments we can feel. No golden crown could ever be More precious than serenity. Good friends who know the soul we keep, A place to rest, a place to sleep. And those whose presence softly proves That life's most sacred language moves. For growing old is not decay It's finding what was lost in haste each day. We need so little to be free A quiet heart, and those we love beside the tree.

Congratulations Spain ❤

In the end, we are all just stories.

We chase tomorrow with restless feet, Believing joy lives where dreams will meet. Yet somewhere, softly beyond our sight, Another soul prays for our ordinary light. The things we hold and overlook each day A peaceful breath, a sky washed gray, A loving word, a place called home, Treasures to those who walk alone. Life does not owe us every desire, Nor feed each longing of the heart's deep fire. But what we have is not too small When gratitude learns to see it all. So if today has not gone as you planned, Still count the blessings in your hand. For while you're wishing for something new, Someone is wishing to be you. And when the road feels hard and long, Let thankfulness become your song. Not everything we seek is meant to stay But grace still finds us, day by day. For happiness is seldom found In all the things we gather 'round It blooms the moment we begin To treasure what has always been.

I am both worse and better than you thought. Sylvia Plath

Inside us there is something that has no name, that something is what we are.

Silence isn't safer than speaking up. It only hides the cost better, for a while. Until we pay it in either resentment, erosion, or the slow disappearance of your own voice. The real choice is whether to address a discomfort or let it fester until it cannot be resolved.

A moment in Black&White By: helena giorgiou