When I was a little girl, many incredible stories happened to me. I felt like I was seeing things that no one else could see, that I was hearing voices that no one else had heard, and to this day I don't know if I slipped so deep into the vortex of fantasy just by playing that I felt like everything was real. However, I remember discovering the old attic in our house. A dusty dark place with a wooden chest and glass bottles in the corner of the room. That place became my refuge, my secret hiding place. I was reading there by candlelight on an old blanket, and I was hurrying down the ladder when my grandmother exposed me and shouted that the place was too dangerous to play. She wasn't worried about me, she was worried that I would set the house on fire with a candle, since the attic floor was wooden and the roof beams above me too.

During my more careful exploration of the attic, I found a loose wooden board, and under it I hid my journals and small children's treasures. I longed to be a character from those children's stories like Mary in the secret garden, the girl with the matches, Anna from the Green House, Jo in Little Women or the little princess Sara who told amazing stories to the girls in the orphanage. But I lived my own magical story.

Over time, I began to notice that small mysterious coincidences happen to people around me. When I was happy, they managed something, and when I was angry with them, they messed everything up. When I thought of someone, he usually called or we met somewhere. And later I discovered that I have a kind of gift to attract very special people to me.

I learned to control my desires and wishes, to stop the power and energy that flowed from me, because I seemed too abnormal, strange, crazy, even insane to people, including my family. I laugh at that word. Simply, I learned to act "normal" on the outside.

So I started to notice the women around me. Each was surrounded by her own strong aura and had a power that many of them still have no idea about. I taught my friends how to use those gifts for the good of themselves, their families and their surroundings, and maybe even the whole world. One is an excellent doctor, the other is an excellent teacher, the third is an amazing mother, and I would count dozens of them. Dozens of witches.

My mother was the most against everything mysterious and magical, something unreal. When I gathered courage and a pinch of maturity, I told her the truth straight to her face. "I know you don't think so, but there's a bit of a witch in you too. The things that happen around you have their cause and it's up to you how you deal with them."

Maybe it's just my imagination again, but from that moment on, my mother gained some kind of inner balance and started to create a harmonious environment around herself. Home, where my sister and I like to go back and chat in the kitchen with a glass of wine. She recognized the power of energy that we carry within us, and when we give it passage, it will flow through every crack of even the hardest rock around us and transform it into a magical object.

And let me tell you, sometimes it's really hard to live with everything you look at emitting magical energy. For me, there is no house that does not tell its own story. Not even a lonely wall in the middle of a meadow is like that. When I walk through the forest, nature whispers to me. Among the people I can hear their thoughts. Every touch, sound or smell evokes in me a feeling of the lives I once lived. Well, it's wonderful to walk down a street or through a forest and see the secret of life in everything you look at.