さくらんぼ

Two years in a small pocket of memory - and it still aches with tenderness. It seems that a garden has grown out of the diary entries: slightly sour, but warm, like summer cherries in the sun. There are quarrels, laughter, bike rides, and tears that no longer hurt, but simply adorn the chronicle of two people who managed to love sincerely, even foolishly.

Everything is intertwined - “sorry” and “hurray,” punishments and kisses, fatigue and delight. And in this sticky mixture of emotions, you suddenly realize: happiness is not the end, but a way to be together. When you don't need to search for words to prove that being together is better than being alone. Like two cherries on the same branch: equally red, equally stubborn, equally alive.