A journey to the soul does not begin with the feet, but with silence. Sometimes, when we look inside, we find nothing but an echo: a painful emptiness, a void that cannot be filled with noise or material things. This existential emptiness presents itself as an inner abyss, where certainties crumble and questions multiply.
But the same frightening void is also a fertile space. In the stillness of emptiness, one learns to listen to oneself, to distinguish which thoughts are one's own and which are inherited from others. It is like crossing a desert: loneliness weighs heavily, the thirst for meaning burns, and yet each step reveals a strength that was hidden.
To rediscover oneself is to accept fragility and also power. It is to look in the inner mirror and recognize oneself beyond the masks: fear, desire, nostalgia, everything has a place in that journey. In the end, it is not about filling the void, but about learning to inhabit it, until one discovers that within the silence there is a root that never breaks.
That journey never ends. It is circular, like breathing: losing oneself, searching for oneself, finding oneself... and starting over.