Fifteen minute break

When I was a kid in school, I learned that anyone who gets bad grades is stupid.

A B could still be written off as carelessness—but it had to be fixed. Immediately. It couldn’t be left like that.

B. brought a completely different kind of inspiration into my life. She taught me the natural ease of well-being and the quiet, effortless elegance of calm. She showed me a world where we enjoy life’s beauty in silence, simply refusing to let noise or unnecessary disruption in.

She was the first real mirror I ever had. The kind of mirror that hurts to look into. When I met her, she was barely older than me, yet she seemed light-years ahead. A smart, confident woman leading a successful business — with the same degree I had.

V., professional dancer

At least this is how I know her, because I know almost nothing about her everyday life. And still, she is one of those women who have an impact on me, who come to mind often, who inspire me.

Ever since I understood how much I can learn from other women, I’ve been consciously seeking the company of those who inspire me. And when I’m lucky enough to be around them, I try to make the most of every minute we spend together.

Sometimes I feel like we women speak a secret language. One not designed for peacekeeping, but for quietly turning on each other.

Not just any kind. A medical one. Or more precisely, a disease one.

“Cheers,” Kitti said, raising her glass, her cheeks flushed.

Before she brought the crystal to her lips, she glanced once more at the elegant table.

“You don’t really need people, do you? Your world is so colorful and exciting that you don’t need anyone to enjoy it.”

And what kind? Salted or buttery? Or maybe both?