The tallest guardsman of the mountains resignedly fell into the habit of keeping the youthfulness of their spirit evergreen, unbothered neither by the ravishing fog which way too often veils them out of the blue, nor by the icy north wind groaning from within the rocky nooks…
Embraced by the intense yet chilly light embroidering each and every frosty morning, Winter becomes but a jeweler leaving his mark under greenish eaves.
Stories are everywhere and their persistent omnipresence captures everything in its creative conversion…So it happens with flowers, as if the infinite fairy tale of the whole Universe was transformed and meticulously transposed into these tiny natural treasures reminding us that there is still beauty around.
The beginning of all Wisdom is nothing but a silent, wary dance floating in the air much like an owl`s flight.
Perhaps dreams are somehow scattered up above like tiny seeds and one ought to slowly grow towards them day by day, breath by breath, carefully mounting the treacherous ladder of the so impetuous fears, while leaving behind the powerful roots of nothing else but Hope itself.