Hello
I acknowledge—my hands quiver slightly as I type these words.
Not once have I entrusted a message like this to a someone unknown, much less someone residing an ocean away.
It’s as if tucking my yearnings into an origami boat and releasing it onto the vast ocean, wondering whether the waves will bring it to the perfect beach.
My world is a tranquil Russian village, situated among sun-kissed plains and rustling white-barked groves.
Within these borders, the hours doesn’t rush, meandering like a lazy river, winding through the days with quiet peace.
And when twilight falls—my—the firmament bursts into flame in shades of gold and lilac, like fate itself were etching a vision solely for my soul.
I am a healer.
These hands fix bodies, yet my spirit… it nurses its unspoken hurts.
I have all essentials—shelter, bread, purpose—yet when night comes, I perceive it: not loneliness, but the gentle pang of an emptiness. Like life is an incomplete picture, and its core lies elusive.
The thing I seek is plain: a presence with whom quiet becomes understanding.
Someone who can watch the night sky and effortlessly feel the gravity of my unvoiced reflections.
A soul who values loveliness not merely in the obvious, but in the fire underneath—the untold tales, bruises, the faint glow that persists in broken places.
It’s possible it’s reckless to seek this bond within the online void.
But then—what if you’re seeing this now, discerning not merely text on a screen, but the pulse within them.
Could it be you’re the one who’ll hear the voice woven into my lines?
With tenderness from a hidden corner of Russia, Darya.