Broken Wings
A wounded bird at my feet became a metaphor for my own broken wings. Now, as I raise ducks and geese, each bird I help heal teaches me something about my own recovery.
Read MoreA wounded bird at my feet became a metaphor for my own broken wings. Now, as I raise ducks and geese, each bird I help heal teaches me something about my own recovery.
Read MoreHoje uma ferida do passado voltou a marcar presença. Um aniversário. E a dor tornou-se mais marcante pelo desamparo que senti hoje.Virei-me para um ombro e estava frio, outro estava ausente.Quando tentei falar da minha aflição,...
Read MoreRegeneration: Health, Land, and Life in Portugal A New Chapter: Life in Portugal Now, when I wake...
Read MoreI stopped writing due to spelling and grammar mistakes in my posts. Now, with AI as a proofreading partner – but not a content creator – I’m ready to write again, keeping my authentic voice while ensuring better readability.
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