Excerpt from the 21st Gift — Books
Books are silent friends who never leave you.
They know when to stay quiet, and when to speak.
Books have always been my refuge —
a place where I can lose and find myself at once.
Each page is like a key,
opening a door into a world that would otherwise remain unseen.
When I read, I breathe differently.
Time slows down, the world grows quiet,
and I step into the space between words
where everything possible becomes real.
Books are my parallel world —
gateways into other times, minds, and souls.
Places I can return to whenever I need to understand —
the world, others, or myself.
Books have given me answers
long before I knew how to ask the questions.
And sometimes they offered me a question
just when I thought I already knew.
I loved them from the very beginning.
As a child, I went to the library with my parents,
and I still remember the stillness between the shelves,
the scent of paper, the creak of spines as pages turned.
And the rhythmic sound of the library stamp —
each mark falling on the paper like music,
confirming that I was on the right path.
Excerpt from the 65th Gift — Simplicity
Simplicity is the peace that remains
when everything unnecessary falls away.
People often believe that simplicity means giving up beauty.
That when only a little remains, emptiness takes its place.
But the truth is the opposite —
simplicity is not poverty, nor limitation.
It is a return to essence.
The luxury of purity — in thought, space, and heart.
It is the ability to see what truly matters,
and to release what only hides the core.
When we set down the excess, we can breathe again.
Simplicity is calm.
It is the space between things, between thoughts, between words.
It is a clear tone without noise.
It doesn’t mean having less,
but having just enough.
In simplicity, the mind grows quiet
and the heart begins to speak.
