A dog in the fog
Yesterday, I went hiking up Mount Olympus. The trail was about ten kilometers long with 900 meters of elevation gain, most of which occurred in the first two hours. Everything was shrouded in dense fog, and the humidity was so high that I even gave up on the idea of using my film camera. For about five hours, I concentrated on walking — trying not to trip or fall — climbing, and observing.
I felt strangely at peace with myself, which hadn’t happened in quite a long time. No internet, no doom-scrolling, no “brain rot,” and no fast distractions. A random stray dog stuck with us and followed for the duration of the trip, casually avoiding the dangers of the steep slopes. I thought that this was possibly the closest I had come to reaching my old self: curious, daring, and passionate.
For the last few years, I have felt strangely detached and as though I didn’t belong. My previous, comfortable life was destroyed, and my mental state is not what it used to be. I lost interest in many hobbies and didn’t want to progress in the few that remained. Still, I wanted to be “me” — the real me that got lost somewhere in the past. I want to climb over tree logs and stumps; I want to draw; I want to feel like I’m doing something meaningful that brings me comfort. I want to write in my diaries again, a habit I kept for 15 years but largely abandoned in 2025.
So, I decided to start this blog to track my progress and reflect on things that are happening, and have happened, in my life. I want to stay on that hiking trail for as long as possible. For the last few years, I’ve been reading various small, personal websites and blogs. It brings me back to the beginning of the internet, when people created small pieces of the web for themselves and every website looked authentic and unique. I thought it might be a good idea to create something like that for myself—to share the things I care about and those that are already gone.
December 22, 2025