Hey guys, this is the next part of my little blog dump. I’ve had a few posts sitting around for a while, and I finally decided it’s time they see the light of day. This entry is from early october.
I took this photo a few days ago during a walk by the lake. The air had that early autumn feeling, crisp but still warm enough to stay outside without hurrying. The water was almost completely calm, and for a moment it felt like the world had paused. It reminded me how much I love this time of year, when everything begins to slow down but not stop.
There wasn’t really a plan behind that walk. I had been at my desk for hours, switching between tasks and screens, and at some point I just needed to step away. I left my phone in my pocket and walked without music, which is rare for me. It felt strange at first, but then slowly, it started to feel good.
The lake always changes with the seasons, but autumn gives it a kind of softness. The colors fade and deepen at the same time. The air smells colder, the light falls lower, and even the surface of the water looks different. There’s a quietness that feels earned, like the lake is resting after a long year.
As I stood there, I thought about how easy it is to rush through days without really noticing them. I keep moving from one project to the next, one goal to another, and I rarely stop to see what’s already here. That moment by the lake reminded me that not every pause is a waste of time. Sometimes slowing down is what keeps you from burning out.
I think growth often hides in these kinds of moments. Not in the big, visible ones, but in the quiet spaces between them. The stillness after something ends and before something new begins. The moments when you’re not performing or planning, just existing.
That’s what this photo means to me. A reminder that stillness doesn’t mean standing still. Sometimes it’s the place where you find the strength to move again.
Thanks for stopping by!
– Filippo
Braunstorming 