1991

Spring, which smells not of hope, but of memory. Petals fly, as if time itself has decided to remind us that what seemed eternal has long since become a shadow. The year 1991 is not just a date here, but a state of mind: when everything is new, too bright, too painful, and therefore forever.

There is a feeling of youth in this, where laughter masks loneliness, and kindness is confused with the need to be needed. Everything seems to have frozen in a moment - in a breath, in a glance, in that very “forever” that no one could hold on to. And yet, from these small cracks and unspoken words, tenderness is born. Not to someone - to the very fact that it was alive then.