I love books, especially Remarque. I don’t read often, but when I do, I disappear into the pages completely. For me, reading is not a habit or a routine — it’s an immersion. I wait for the right moment, the right mood, when silence feels meaningful and time slows down. Remarque speaks to me in a way few authors do. His words are honest, heavy with emotion, filled with longing, love, loss, and quiet strength. When I read him, I don’t just follow a story — I feel it. I live inside his characters, their pain, their tenderness, their hope. I may go weeks or even months without opening a book, but once I start, I can’t stop. I read slowly, deeply, absorbing every sentence, every pause between the lines. It’s a private world I enter fully, leaving everything else behind. Books, especially Remarque’s, remind me that emotions don’t need to be loud to be powerful. Sometimes the deepest feelings live in silence — just like me when I read.

I dream of enhancing my body and making my breasts exactly the way I imagine them. It’s not just about appearance — it’s about confidence, desire, and feeling even more comfortable in my own skin. I’m actively saving money for it, step by step, turning a dream into a plan. I love the idea of investing in myself, in my body, in the way I feel when I look in the mirror. This is something I’m doing for me first — because I know how powerful it feels to love what you see. And yes, I won’t deny it — I want to delight not only my own eyes, but yours as well. For me, this dream is about pleasure and self-expression. About becoming a more confident, more radiant version of myself. I enjoy the journey just as much as the goal, knowing that every small effort brings me closer to something I truly want. Some dreams are meant to be admired — slowly, passionately, and with anticipation.

I collect postcards from different countries and places. For me, they are more than just pieces of paper — they are memories I can hold in my hands. Each postcard carries a moment, a feeling, a fragment of a journey that once existed in real life. I don’t collect them obsessively or methodically. I collect them emotionally. Some come from places I’ve been to, others from people I’ve met along the way, and a few simply found their way to me at the right time. Every card has its own story, its own mood, its own quiet magic. When I look through my collection, I don’t just see cities or landscapes — I remember the air, the sounds, the emotions. A postcard can bring me back to a sunset in a foreign street, a slow morning in a new country, or a feeling of freedom I once felt and never forgot. These postcards are my way of saving moments. They remind me that the best memories don’t fade — they wait patiently, tucked away, until I’m ready to feel them again.

I’m interested in sports and yoga, but yoga holds a special place in my life. After long, heavy days, it becomes my way to unload myself — physically, mentally, emotionally. When everything feels overwhelming, I roll out my mat and allow myself to slow down. Yoga helps me reconnect with my body and my breath. Each movement feels intentional, each pause meaningful. It’s not about perfection or flexibility — it’s about listening to myself and letting go of tension I didn’t even realize I was carrying. Sport gives me strength, but yoga gives me balance. It grounds me, calms my thoughts, and brings me back into the present moment. After a session, I feel lighter, clearer, and more in tune with myself. For me, yoga is a quiet ritual — a moment of self-care after difficult days, where I choose peace, softness, and inner harmony.