I’ve just moved; from the heart of the city to its quiet outskirts. 
The past few weeks have been a blur of boxes, walls, and rearranging life. 
I barely had time to pick up a brush or let my pencil wander across paper. 

But now… I’m finally settling in. 

My new home is wrapped in green; open fields stretch just beyond the corner, 
and in my backyard stands a wise old tree, its branches whispering stories. 
I even have a terrace where I can draw beneath the open sky. 

Being surrounded by nature again feels like coming home to my soul. 
The birds sing their morning hymns, leaves rustle like secrets in the wind, 
and autumn paints the world in gold and flame. 
Even the night is alive; its silence so deep, it sings. 

Every ride to my studio takes me through wide-open fields. 
There, under endless sky, I feel it: 
I am part of something vast, ancient, and breathtakingly whole. 
My eyes lift instinctively; drawn to the horizon, the clouds, the light. 
Beauty doesn’t just pass before me; it enters me. 
It fills me. It ‘ensouls’ me. 

I walk through each day in wide-eyed wonder; 
like a child seeing the world for the first time. 

Yesterday, while cycling, I looked up, and there it was: 
a falcon, suspended in midair. 
Not flying, not falling; just ‘hanging’, perfectly still, 
scanning the earth below with quiet intensity. 

Its posture was pure harmony; every feather, every angle in divine balance. 
So precise, so complete, it defied gravity itself. 
Few birds can do this. Few things in nature hold such stillness with such power. 

In that moment, the falcon wasn’t just hunting; it was composing. 
A living masterpiece, suspended in sky,  where every element aligns… and magic appears. 

And I, small beneath it all, stood breathless,
reminded once again: 
wonder is not rare. 
It’s everywhere. 
You just have to look up.