Coming back

There’s something vulnerable about opening this space again.

About sitting in front of a blank page after months of silence…and not knowing exactly where to begin.

But maybe that’s the point.

Because the silence was never empty.

It was full of life.

Of processes.

Of grief.

Of goodbyes and quiet reunions.

Of pauses that were not optional, but necessary.

Of endings… and of new beginnings.

And in the middle of all that, something unexpectedly beautiful —

I’ve met amazing people here.

Real, fun, kind souls who have made me laugh,

who have shared white wine with me, long conversations,

and moments I didn’t know I needed.

I moved to the other side of the world…

only to rediscover a family I didn’t know I had.

It has also been a cascade of emotions and nostalgia,

flooding the window of eyes now looking toward a new horizon.

From my window today,

I see the sea —the Mediterranean Sea —

from another corner of the world,

with new perspectives and quiet hopes.

I stepped away, not because I had nothing to say,

but because I had too much to feel.

And sometimes, life asks us to live it

before we can find the words to share it.

So here I am.

Not with a perfect story,

not with everything figured out,

but with the simple intention of coming back…

for as long as I can.

There is, as always, uncertainty now.

The treatment that once held me is, again, no longer working,

and I don’t know what comes next.

I know, I want to live — I really do.

To enjoy, to feel, to stay.

And at the same time…

there’s a part of me that is tired,

that doesn’t want pain to define what’s ahead.

Both things exist in me.

And both are true.

Right now, I’m in a place where life is lived and valued more deeply,

because you don’t always know what will happen next.

The strength and resilience of the people here is contagious.

Each of us is living our own battles —some internal, some very real and external, like the ones surrounding us now.

And yet, what this place keeps reminding me is this:

Life goes on.

No matter how we each face our conflicts,

We keep moving,

We keep taking that next step…

Often without knowing exactly where it will lead.

But we need to keep walking

to find out.

So I choose this:

to keep writing,

to keep living what is here.

Because even here —in a place with bombs and sirens and uncertainty —

The sun still shines every day.

And what I breathe, still…

is a longing for joy.

If you’re here,

Thank you for waiting,

for staying,

or for arriving at this exact moment.

We’ll take it one word at a time...

With all my love, 🫶

See you all on my next post

Malena 💕🌿