Der Vorgang 33858
darya_doc@gyneguide.ru
Darya
Der erste Kontakt 33858
Anzahl der Mails: 1
| Mailtext |
|---|
| Hello I acknowledge—my hands shake a little as I write these words. Not once have I sent a letter like this to a stranger, never mind someone dwelling an ocean away. It’s as if tucking my yearnings into a fragile craft and setting it onto the endless ocean, wondering whether the waves will bring it to its destined beach. My life is an isolated Russian village, nestled among golden meadows and rustling white-barked groves. Within these borders, the hours doesn’t rush, drifting like a lazy river, winding through each moment with quiet grace. And at dusk—oh—the heavens comes alive in shades of amber and violet, as if the divine were etching a work of art just for my soul. I am a healer. These fingers repair the wounded, yet my spirit… continues soothing its own silent wounds. I want for nothing—a roof, bread, calling—yet when night comes, I sense it: not isolation, but the soft ache of an emptiness. It’s like existence is an incomplete picture, and its heart lies out of reach. The thing I seek is simple: someone with whom silence becomes understanding. One who can observe the same constellations and wordlessly grasp the substance of my hidden musings. An individual who discerns loveliness not merely in the obvious, but in the truth underneath—secret histories, bruises, lingering light that dwells in the gaps. Maybe it’s absurd to hunt this bond within this digital expanse. But then—what if you’re seeing this now, perceiving not merely text on a display, but the pulse behind them. Could it be you’re the one who’ll hear the whisper in my phrases? With kindness from a remote part of Russia, Darya. |