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My dream is not loud. It doesn't require a stage, applause, or recognition. I dream of a small shelter for abandoned s — not big, not noisy, but a place where every dog and every cat will feel that they are expected. I imagine an old house outside the city, with a garden and tall windows, where the sun hits the floor at noon. There will be a stove smelling of herbs and soft couches by the fireplace. I will heal them — not only the body, but also what is broken inside. Because I know what it's like when someone you loved turns into a trauma. s remember too. They also tremble from harsh sounds and hide in corners. My task is to restore their faith in the fact that hands can be used not only for pain, but also for affection. I want this place to be open to those who have lost hope, both on all fours and on two legs. Maybe I can learn again there. Learn to take heat without fear of burns. While I'm studying. For now, I'm collecting money, knowledge, and courage for this. But every evening I spend with you, every conversation about your pets, is a small brick in the foundation of my dreams. Thank you for helping me build it