If this Saturday was all about rain, thunders, challenging my inner #FuckItMellie (if you watch SCANDAL you got the reference) and spend the entire afternoon watching football then last Saturday was all about sun, friends, dinners and party. And by party I mean a 30th year wedding anniversary party… excused to say they were my mother’s friends. The tables were named after flowers and ours was Anastacia.

Summer afternoons were made for ice creams and walks by the park. It's August and there are finally boats at the park's lake. It's tradition in my hometown that every year after May 15th (city's day) there are boats at the local park. But this year the tradition took longer to arrive. And people were already questioning the hospital, who owns the park which actual belongs to the thermal hospital, for the reason behind the break of a tradition. 

If three years ago you would have asked if I was going to apply for a Masters I would have told you no. If two years ago you would have asked me if I was feeling positive about the decision I was making I would have told you "not sure".  If a year ago you would have asked me if I liked my theme I would have told you yes. But if nine months ago you would have asked me if I was happy I would have told you no. If half a year ago you would have asked me if I wanted to throw everything out of the window, throw all the papers away and quit it all I would have given a straight forward yes. I was losing my mind. Everything I would do never seemed enough. I didn't read enough. I didn't write enough. I wouldn't write properly. I was losing my mind. And in the middle of all that I got sick. Not once, but twice.