A look into the distance often reveals the parts of ourselves we thought were lost. In the wide, open landscapes of France, I looked back at my journey. I searched for answers in the shadows of my past. This reflection was more than just a memory. It was a profound internal architecture for my healing heart. Every quiet moment helped me process the tectonic shifts of my life. As a sensitive spirit, I followed the echoes of old dreams. I found beauty in the erosion of my former fears. This path led me to a stable, Malachite peace. Understanding a look into the distance helps me stay grounded today. My truth lives in this balance of past and future. Within these vast intervals, the spirit finally finds its rhythm.
Pogled u daljinu
Zašto svaki put kad pogledam u daljinu imam osjećaj da tražim nešto izgubljeno? Mjesto, osobu, trenutak ili dio sebe zakopan u vremenu.
Ali svaki put kad pogledam iza horizonta, osjetim težinu u grudima, nemir koji pita:
Možda tražim odgovore koje nikada nisam izgovorila, ljude koje sam pustila da odu, sebe kakva sam nekad bila — hrabrija, toplija, jednostavnija.
Prošlost je uvijek tu, pola koraka iza mene, tiha, neumorna, podsjećajući me da sam otišla. I baš tada — znam tko sam.
Regard au loin
Pourquoi chaque fois que je regarde au loin ai-je l’impression de chercher quelque chose de perdu ? Un lieu, une personne, un moment, ou une part de moi restée dans le temps.
Mais à chaque fois que je regarde l’horizon, je sens un poids dans ma poitrine, un trouble qui demande :
Peut-être je cherche des réponses que je n’ai jamais dites, des personnes que j’ai laissées partir, la version de moi-même que j’étais autrefois — plus courageuse, plus douce, plus simple.
Le passé est toujours là, à demi-pas derrière moi, silencieux, infatigable, me rappelant que je suis partie. Et c’est alors que je me retrouve.
Looking into the Distance
Why is it that every time I look into the distance I feel like I’m searching for something lost? A place, a person, a moment, or a piece of myself left behind in time.
But every time my eyes meet the horizon, I feel the heaviness in my chest, the quiet restlessness asking:
Maybe I’m searching for answers I never spoke, for people I let go, the version of myself I once was — braver, warmer, simpler.
The past is always there, half a step behind me, silent, relentless, reminding me I left. And only then — I find myself.