We took the long way

It took a long time before the land became ours.

Not because it wasn’t there —
but because we weren’t ready to say yes.

We traveled.
We returned.
We hesitated.

And even when the land was available, we waited.

Until one evening, after another return,
we went there without a plan —
just to look.

The sun was setting.
The light stayed longer than expected.

In that moment, we didn’t think about problems.
We didn’t list limitations.
We didn’t see what would later become complicated.

We didn’t even see ourselves clearly yet.

We were naive.
We didn’t know what we were stepping into.

All we saw was the view.
And the way the sunset settled into it.

That was the moment the decision made itself.

We didn’t arrive here quickly.

For a long time, there was no clear plan.
No fixed idea of what this place should become.

There was only movement.

We stayed in places that were never meant to be permanent.
We borrowed rooms, landscapes, and mornings.
And with every new place, something shifted.

Not forward.
Inward.

We learned how much space we actually need.
And how much of what we thought we needed was only noise.

Some places taught us about light.
Others about silence.
Some about weather that stays for days, and some about mornings that disappear too fast.

We didn’t collect destinations.
We collected impressions.
Textures.
Distances between things.

To be continued…