Good morning. It's the first of September, around eight o'clock, and the subtle hints of autumn are already in the air. Today, like most days, I started with a traditional Russian breakfast: a bowl of buckwheat with milk. Despite having this meal countless times, there's something about its simplicity that I still haven’t fully embraced. It feels like a piece of routine that doesn’t quite fit, much like the school days that lie ahead. But one thing I never skip is my morning ritual of singing while getting in some physical activity. It’s these small moments that keep me grounded, especially as the world around me—and within me—continues to shift.

This year, the first of September falls on a Sunday, granting me an extra day to breathe before plunging back into the relentless cycle of school. Honestly, the thought of returning to the grind—waking up at the crack of dawn, getting dressed for classes, and slogging through homework—fills me with dread. The rigid schedule feels like a heavy burden, something that drains the joy out of life rather than adding to it. Last year’s routine weighed me down, each day blurring into the next, leaving little room for anything that truly excited me.

Over the summer, I had time to think, and I came to a realisation: most homework is pointless. It doesn’t really teach you anything meaningful. It’s just busywork, designed to fill up time rather than enrich the mind. The only assignments that seemed worthwhile were the ones that allowed me to be creative, to express something unique. I’ve decided that this year, I won’t let homework consume my time. Instead, I’ll focus on pursuits that genuinely make me happy, things that inspire me and make life feel vibrant.

One of those joys is taking long walks. This summer, my dad and I spent countless hours exploring different cities and villages. Each place had its own distinct charm—whether it was a quaint village with its timeworn traditions or a bustling city alive with stories waiting to be uncovered. There’s something magical about discovering new places on foot. The way a village comes alive with its own stories or how a city reveals its character through its streets and architecture—it’s like embarking on a new adventure each time. Those walks left me with a deeper appreciation for the world around me, and a sense of wonder that I want to carry into the school year.

So naturally, the first thing I did this morning was head out for a walk. The weather couldn’t have been more perfect. The sun shone brightly, casting a golden light that made everything seem to glow. The sky was a clear, endless blue, reflecting on the earth like a mirror. As I walked, the wind began to pick up, carrying with it the first hints of autumn—a crispness in the air that was both refreshing and sobering. It was a reminder that the seasons are changing, and with them, the rhythms of life. Just as the leaves will soon fall and the days will grow shorter, I too am on the cusp of change, navigating the transitions that lie ahead.

After my walk, I returned home and dove into a project that’s become a significant part of my life recently—helping my parents with the renovations in our new apartment. This summer, after years of dreaming and planning, we finally bought a new house. It’s been a whirlwind of activity ever since, with every room a blank canvas waiting to be brought to life. Today, we focused on putting up wallpaper. As I helped glue the paper to the walls, I felt a deep sense of satisfaction. Each strip of wallpaper was more than just decoration; it was a piece of our new beginning, a tangible symbol of the life we’re building together. There’s something incredibly fulfilling about transforming a space, about making it truly your own. As I stood back to admire our work, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride and excitement for what’s to come.