My hobbies are simple, but they keep me in balance. Most of all, I love photography not staged, but one that captures a random moment: a reflection in a puddle, someone else's silhouette on a tram, the shadow of leaves on the wall. Photography is a way for me to talk to the world without words. The second is reading. I read a lot and randomly: Polish prose, essays, and sometimes poetry. I like it when a book doesn't give ready answers, but leaves a question. I also draw not professionally, but rather for myself, with charcoal and a simple pencil. This is meditation: while you draw a line, your head empties. Sometimes I go for long walks around the city without a route, and this is also a kind of hobby collecting streets. In winter, culinary experiments are added: I bake bread and try new recipes, although half of them end with improvisation. I like that hobbies don't require results they just exist, like a quiet company

I'm increasingly thinking that relationships are not about coincidence, but about work. From an early age, friendship and love are shown to us as something that happens by itself, but in reality everything is different: intimacy is built from small things - from the ability to call first, to remain silent when you want to argue, to admit a mistake without bargaining. I notice that people are often afraid of being misunderstood, so they put on masks and then wonder why they're lonely. I like the idea that a real connection is possible only where there is a place for honesty — even uncomfortable ones. I'm learning not to save others or wait for salvation, but just to be there for them. Sometimes it means letting a person go if they need to go their own way. Friendship for me is not the meetings, but the feeling of being seen. And I try to be the kind of person you can't pretend to be with

My name is Eva, I'm eighteen, and I live in Poland, a country where gray panel houses sit side by side with cozy cafes, and autumn smells of wet asphalt and apple pie. I have just graduated from high school and am on the threshold of adulthood, which still seems to me like a big room with many closed doors. By nature, I'm more of an observer than a loud participant: I like to notice details how people hold a cup, how the light in the window changes before the rain, how silence sounds in the library. I don't like haste and big promises. Honesty is closer to me, albeit awkward, than polite emptiness. I'm studying humanities because I'm interested in how words shape the world around us. Sometimes I think I'm too thoughtful for my age, but I guess that's not a disadvantage, it's just a way of looking at things. I appreciate people who can listen, and I try to be the same. In the future, I want to find a business where I can combine curiosity about people with real benefits even on a scale

My dream doesn't sound loud, and it doesn't bother me. One day, I want to gather a small space around me maybe a workshop or a small cafe with books where people can just be, without having to make an impression. A place where you can be silent, read, drink coffee and feel safe. It seems to me that there are not enough such quiet islands in the world. To do this, I want to learn, gain experience and learn how to run a business not according to a template, but according to conscience. The second part of the dream is traveling, but not chasing a list of cities. I want to live in different places for longer: in Portugal by the ocean, in a northern country where the winter is long and fair. I dream of a life in which there will be more depth than speed. And yet, it's about having loved ones around not out of obligation, but at will. For me, a dream is not a final destination, but a direction in which you can walk calmly without burning yourself

I don't believe that the meaning of life is one big find that needs to be found. Rather, it's something that we piece together every day: in conversation, at work, in a quiet morning, in someone else's gratitude. Sometimes it seems to me that the meaning is in attention: to oneself, to the other, to the world. When I stop chasing the answer, the questions become softer. I think that every person sets a price for his days, and this is both freedom and responsibility. It is important for me not to live my life on autopilot — not according to someone else's scenario, not for the sake of approval. Let there be less noise and more realness. I do not know where everything will lead, and, to be honest, it is not so scary for me not to know. Perhaps maturity is the ability to live with an open question and at the same time not lose the warmth of life