Every morning, as soon as I wake, my first instinct is to check the “power outage” schedule for the day.
Two hours without electricity. Every single day. I rearrange my life around it, learning to exist in the gaps between light and darkness. It’s exhausting, but somehow, we’ve adapted—as if this is how life was always meant to be.
Most of my days are spent in the workshop, my hands carving life into stone. There’s a quiet kind of joy in my craft, in the art I create, in the small but honest income it brings me. And yet, every now and then, I escape—I take my bike and ride to the beach. It’s the least I can do to remind myself what pleasure feels like.
I wish I could stop reading the news, but I can’t.
It’s all tragedy and turmoil, a never-ending stream of sorrow. A storm is brewing, they say. The powerful wage their wars, and we—mere mortals—are caught in the tides, helpless against the currents.
The value of our currency collapsed overnight. The streets are restless, people scrambling to buy whatever they can before the prices climb even higher. They say everything will cost at least 50% more next month.
Maybe I would have rushed to the stores too—if I had any money. It’s almost laughable. But never mind that.
The sea is dazzling today.
The waves roll in, steady and endless, whispering secrets only the wind can understand. The beach is peaceful, though the air carries a quiet warning—cold winds are coming, storms and snow on the horizon.
They say chaos is coming.
But for now, the sea still shines.
Here’s my info if you like to check out my art:
My Instagram Page: @we.rock.crafts
My Telegram Channel: t.me/werockcrafts
My MetaMask Wallet Address:
0xeb11cd67d96fC462C51951f385d196C1F470d679
