Exactly ten years ago, on December 1, 2013, I arrived by train with all my things in one suitcase under the Tatras to start a new life. My friends from Prague wrote to me the whole way to make sure I was okay and that I hadn't changed my mind, and my head was full of the farewell party they had organized for me. I didn't know exactly what I wanted. Prague was beautiful, but too fast, I felt like I was changing from a tomboy to a lady to fit in. I only had to look once at the panorama of the Tatras at sunset to hear that overlooked call.

I passed through a still foreign city to me, noticing with a new eye the beautiful gates on the houses of the old town, the rays of the golden clock touching the towers of the town hall, churches and of the castle bastion, I entered the forest, surrounded by tall trees dusted with snow like grandma's sugared cakes, and I walked to a place with a view of the Tatras, where Loro and I had gone a few times before. Golden rays irradiated the tops of the pine trees as if they were on fire. Golden pines. I told myself that this would be the name of one of my books. I went to the viewpoint and saw the Tatras again. The snowy mountains in the pink haze of the setting sun lured me, drugged me and made me forget all my previous ideas about life. So here is the home? I asked myself.

Life under the Tatras was not easy at all. It was as rough as shield stones. It was often as violent as water rapids in Tatra streams. It was as dangerous and unpredictable as the weather in the mountains. But it was as beautiful as the dawn.

And now a new chapter awaits us...