By capturing their passion and dedication, I hope to inspire others and highlight the meaningful impact retirees can have on society.
The project has taken on a deeply important direction, focusing on the people who are truly the heart and soul of restoring and maintaining historical sites.
It’s not just a project about physical restoration; it’s about human dedication, selflessness, and collective effort, making it more profound and meaningful.
I want to give these volunteers a "face" and recognise their heroism because, too often, the attention is focused on the end result—the restored buildings and other structures—while the people behind these processes remain in the shadows.
I want to show that without these volunteers, without their love and hard work, none of this would be possible.
My desire to make these individuals visible is a vital step in preserving not only the history of these sites but also the history of those who create it with their own hands.
This project aims to inspire others to recognise the value of volunteer work and demonstrate that the contributions of every individual can have a tremendous impact on society.
A sense of farewell and reflection on the destruction of natural harmony.
How humans perceive and in others relate to nature?
We often associate pain with cries and tears because these are the reactions we see and feel in ourselves or in others.
But nature, devoid of our language, expresses pain differently — through silence, emptiness, a disruption of familiar rhythms.
When a forest is cut down, it’s not just a single tree that disappears — an entire world of sounds, scents, and connections, living in every leaf and root, vanishes.
This silence is like a voiceless scream.
Can humans feel this pain?
Perhaps every time we enter a place where a forest once stood but now only stumps and fallen trunks remain, we feel a sense of unease, as if something important has gone, something alive has been lost.
This is an intuitive pain that connects us with nature.
Strangely enough, we ourselves are a part of nature, and by destroying it, we destroy something within ourselves as well.
In old age, everyone needs more attention. It is so sad that we sometimes forget about those to whom we owe our existence.
If we all communicated with them more often, I believe they could set a good example for the current generation.
Ultimately, we all grow old, and that is an inevitable fact.
We will all need attention and care.
For me, communicating with people from different eras is always enlightening and fascinating.
They preserve and honor family traditions, and in their times, people valued different things and were more courteous and gallant in their interactions.
The Path Through the Fog Can Return to the Light
This project is my story.
A story of how, after going through life’s trials, I found myself again. Nature became my support, a place of silence and awareness, a kind of meditation. It is important to learn to listen, feel, and trust. And if you open your heart to it, nature will reveal an entire world in return—a world of harmony, strength, and inner peace.
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The Mindful Life
(ongoing project)
A small story.
Deep in the garden, where morning dew trembled on the leaves, two flowers grew.
Each morning, they stretched toward the sun, soaking in its warmth, opening their petals to life.
One day, a person cut them and brought them home.
One was placed in water, while the other was left lying on the table.
Days passed.
The flower in the water stood proudly, its petals glowing, enjoying the soft morning light.
The flower without water remained the same for a while, but soon its stem began to dry, its petals shriveled, its color faded.
— You are losing yourself, — said the flower in the water.
— I am simply following my own path, — replied the other.
Days went by.
The flower without water crumbled into delicate petals. They settled on the table, light as feathers.
The person gathered them, went out into the garden, and, with a flick of the hand, let them drift in the wind.
Time passed, and suddenly, a new flower bloomed in the garden.
It stretched toward the sun, soaking in its warmth, opening its petals to life.
We are all like flowers.
We live, we bloom, and then we go.
But something remains after us—words, emotions, memories, inspiration.
And perhaps that is our immortality.