Eternity was not enough...
Not enough to be inspired by that air — pure, like the memory of first passion. Where time is not counted in hours, but in the sighs of the wind among the spires of picturesque houses on the slope. Where even one bitcoin a year seemed too generous, because wealth is not in the wallet, but in every dawn over that mountain.
She stood on the edge of the horizon — not a person, but a metaphor: of someone who could remain. Who knew how to see greatness in simplicity, meaning in silence, the future — in every ray of sun sinking in the fields. She asked: "How long would you live here?" — and each heart answered silently: an eternity, if it could be lived without haste.
For some places do not require time. They are time itself.
