Once, I learned how to live in silence. But what kind of life is it, when your voice screams only on the inside and no one hears it?
That’s where this begins.
I was born in Hungary, a place where glances often said more than words, and silence could be heavier than walls. I became a woman too soon, shaped by loss, rebuilt from the sharp edges of broken hopes. For years, my friends were the only ones who truly listened – even when I had no words left.
Then one day, the noise changed. It wasn’t fear turning the key in the door, it was him. The man who didn’t ask why I flinched at familiar sounds… he just stepped in and turned on the light.
Have you ever felt that moment when, for the first time, you didn’t want to run away, you wanted to arrive?
Two years ago, I moved to the United States. I’m studying law – not for the rules, but to understand justice. I’ve walked the hard path of immigration. I’ve feared, I’ve grieved, I’ve lived through the ache of being oceans away from my family. There were months when I lived without hope. But now, I live with strength. I know I’m not alone. And I believe that our stories, the told and the untold, connect us more than we think.
That’s why you’re here. Because you’re looking for something too.
What if, for once, you didn’t have to carry what hurts you alone?
This blog is not just my voice. It’s a home. A warm, safe space where anyone can sit down and let go for a moment.
You don’t have to be perfect here, just real.
And I’m here. I’m listening.
at my table 