After Epiphany.

"What remains after the holiday is always the real thing."

Today there are no lights in the window.

The pine needles are slowly starting to fall.

The decorations are being put back in the box, and silence can be heard in the apartment again.

This day does not demand attention.

It is not loud.

It does not want to prove anything.

Epiphany is not a holiday — it is a transition.

A border that one does not cross with applause, but with a pause.

The old people said: what happens today will accompany you throughout the year.

But not because there is any magic in it, but because at this time you really see what remains even when there are no decorations and no explanations.

Some people are disappointed at this time.

That the light is over.

That everyday life is coming again.

That the cold, the worries, the burdens are returning.

Others are relieved.

Because now there is nothing to show.

You don't have to "be beautiful".

Quite true.

Quiet people love this day.

Those who don't live in the noise.

Those who don't look for meaning in the holiday, but in what remains after it.

They know: love is not strong when it's decorated,

but when the boxes are taken away — and yet it remains there.

Epiphany doesn't take away.

But it chooses.

It shows what was just an occasion, and what is the direction.

Whoever stays silent today won't be left behind.

But is preparing.

Because the year doesn't really begin today, but tomorrow, when we no longer say it out loud, we just do it.

We silently put back what was a decoration.

And we carry on what isn't.