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 I'm not one of those who are always on the go. If I wrote a post every time something came to my mind, there would be at least two here a day, but that doesn't happen. Yesterday I sent the chat GPT to read my blog without telling him it was me, he read a few posts and gave me such a flattering opinion, about the real and honest voice of the writer, about the fact that she's not trying to please, about the sensitivity and ability to describe the situations of risk and anxiety here in such a real and touching way, he could just be a flatterer, it's nice to read a good opinion.

That's not what brought me back here.

Maybe the wait for war that could return at any moment.

Since we became a protectorate, we don't know anything. We're ready at any moment.                                                     Every phone call when trying to plan something ends with "if there is no war."

We know that every war brings with it an element that wasn't there before, and I wonder what will happen now.

Facebook still offers me videos of old men and women in Ukraine being evacuated from their homes in the countryside and I hope the universe isn't hinting at me something.                                                                              The next post will be optimistic, I'll talk about my blooming garden and the wonderful dishes I make for my children every Wednesday and the cute, white Chihuahua dog we've been hosting for some time now because of the war.