Welcome wanderer! The meadow’s gate stands slightly open... If you’re ready to dream, then welcome in.

Mind your steps!
Walk gently here.

Let no sleepy stone trip your foot,
nor forgotten letters fall upon your head.

This meadow is still growing.
Its song is not finished yet. 🌱

Before you begin reading these pages,
find a comfortable corner.
Make yourself a cup of tea or coffee,
and step into the adventure that way.

Words may change places from time to time.
This is normal.
It is the wind at play,
language turning itself into a tale.

It quietly wanders through the sentences,
shuffling them for a while,
then gently sets everything back in place.

If you linger here,
you may notice a faint smile,
a distant gaze,
and the rise of poetic thoughts.

These pages can be read on small screens as well.
But the meadows grow narrower,
the letters smaller,
and some things become harder to see.

And remember,
no one here ever promised
that stories would be short
or that paths would be easy to find.

So please,
do not complain. :))

The Meadow Map works like a compass.
Let it gently guide you.
Wander without a map,
linger,
turn back when you wish.

If you lose your way,
the home page is always waiting for you.

If you cannot find what you are looking for,
make yourself a cup of tea
and try again.
The answer may drift upward,

carried softly

in the curling steam.

Please do not read the stories out loud.
If the neighbors hear,
who knows what they might think. :)))

These pages are best read at night,
during the quiet hours,
just before sleep.

Each page hides a detail.
A word,
a trace,
sometimes even an unexpected playlist.

The meadow sings in two languages:
Turkish and English.
Sometimes, Elvish as well. 🌙✨

Using multiple languages may cause
a little confusion from time to time.
But any such slips are gently corrected
as soon as they are noticed.

Three apples fell from the sky.
One to truth,
one to dreams,
and one to a place unseen on any map,
but open to those who know the old paths.

Meadow Wanderer is sometimes a narrator,
sometimes a walking shadow,
and sometimes nothing more
than a figure from a tale.

In this meadow,
some of what is told has been lived,
some has been dreamed,
and some has become what it was told to be.

Truth and imagination
often walk the same path.
You are free to ask
where they part ways.
Finding the answer
belongs to the reader.

Nai i vendë lúmë siluva. ✨

May what is hidden reveal itself in time.

Time does not rush here.

Slow down.
Breathe.

And join the story.