Today, I walked on the beach where the waves were big and white. It was the first time in a long while that I felt at ease, close to the white waves. Two years ago, I remember how painful it was to be on that same shore, watching the white waves come toward me. The white was a problem for me. I was after a divorce, and my world was shattered, scattered around me, and I couldn’t find anything to hold on to.

The white was within me, endless, like an infinite sea of white, where no one lived, in a profound silence. I ran, day and night, from this white hell. The emptiness and stagnation there were painful, with no corner of solution, no refuge.

Then one day, I took a step. I stopped running from the white hell. I didn’t stop because I found a solution or someone to save me, but because I was tired of crying, tired of running, tired of fearing that white cell.

When I stopped and faced the white world, I realized it was, in fact, my inner world – frozen, completely frozen. The emptiness felt even deeper, and with all my strength, I began to run again. But where could I run from myself? The white world had become a vicious circle, a time that repeated itself endlessly.

Only when I accepted my white world did it begin to melt, little by little, every day. But as the white world started to dissolve, I discovered a deep sadness within me. I realized I no longer knew who I was. I asked myself, "How did I get here? Why am I not happy?" The questions kept coming, and because I remembered that if I accepted, I could transcend, one day I accepted that I was sad. That I was depressed.

I stopped resisting my feelings, and the white world continued to melt. My sadness became my friend, because sometimes we can learn to be friends with winter. We can learn from winter and become stronger, like a tree that roots itself deeply in the earth, waiting patiently for summer. Because we need to recreate our world.

Everything started with a simple question: How are you, really?