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Life moves fast. Too fast sometimes. School days, responsibilities, noise, questions, obligations… everything piling up until your mind feels louder than the world around you.
And then, we escape.Not far. Just enough.To the lake.
There is a place by the water I have known since childhood. A place where silence doesn’t mean the absence of sound, but the presence of peace. Right there, near the large pipes where mineral water flows — rich with sulfur and iodine — feeding the lake in a steady, soothing stream. Around them, small showers drip endlessly, creating a quiet rhythm that feels almost alive.
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https://unsplash.com/photos/a-pipe-sticking-out-of-a-body-of-water-3ZK7QBK4wUI
I used to sit there as a kid, watching that water pour into the lake. Listening. Breathing. Recharging myself without even knowing it. Whenever life felt heavy, that place gave me something I couldn’t explain back then… but I understand it now.
It gave me balance.
I remember feeding the swans, watching fish gather near the surface, and throwing flat stones across the water — making them dance, skipping again and again in those small, perfect “frog jumps.”
Now, years later, I sit in the same place.
But I’m not alone anymore.
My wife is there. My children too.
Aleksandar, only five, stands beside me, focused and determined, throwing small stones into the lake. And somehow… he’s already better at it than I was at his age. Each skip across the water feels like a small victory.
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Anja is with her mother, gently feeding the swans, laughing as they come closer, fearless and graceful.
Soon, the quiet turns into joyful chaos.
The kids run to the sand. Shovels in their hands, building towers, burying toy cars, only to dig them up again like hidden treasure. A ball rolls, laughter follows. The world becomes loud again…
Photo by Dusan Stojkov
But inside me, it stays quiet.
Because this is what I’ve learned — silence isn’t the absence of noise. It’s being at peace within it.
As the sun begins to set, we slow down. Two easy laps around the lake — about 800 meters each. The kids ride their tricycles and balance bikes, full of energy even at the end of the day.
Then, one last stop.The outdoor eco gym.A few exercises, a few deep breaths, the body catching up with the mind.
Photo by Dusan Stojkov
And then we head home.Tired. Hungry.But happy.Just before the mosquitoes decide it’s their turn to enjoy the evening.
And somewhere between the laughter, the splashing water, and the sound of tiny stones skipping across the lake… I realize something simple, but important:
I didn’t lose my quiet place.I just grew into it.
Photo by Dusan Stojkov
On Serbian:
Photo by:https://unsplash.com/photos/boathouses-on-a-lake-with-city-skyline-in-background-7qlD67NIzNo
Život ide brzo. Ponekad i prebrzo. Školski dani, obaveze, buka, pitanja, odgovornosti… sve se gomila dok ti um ne postane glasniji od sveta oko tebe.
A onda — pobegnemo.Ne daleko. Tek toliko.Do jezera.
Postoji jedno mesto kraj vode koje poznajem još od detinjstva. Mesto gde tišina ne znači odsustvo zvuka, već prisustvo mira. Upravo tamo, blizu velikih cevi kroz koje teče mineralna voda — bogata sumporom i jodom — koja se sliva u jezero u stalnom, umirujućem toku. Oko njih, mali tuševi neprestano kaplju, stvarajući tihi ritam koji deluje gotovo živo.
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https://unsplash.com/photos/a-pipe-sticking-out-of-a-body-of-water-3ZK7QBK4wUI
Kao dete sam tu sedeo, gledao kako voda otiče u jezero. Slušao. Disao. Punio se energijom, a da to tada nisam ni razumeo. Kad god bi život postao težak, to mesto mi je davalo nešto što tada nisam umeo da objasnim… ali sada razumem.
Dalo mi je ravnotežu.
Sećam se kako sam hranio labudove, gledao ribe kako se skupljaju pri površini i bacao pljosnato kamenje preko vode — terajući ga da pleše, skače iznova i iznova u tim malim, savršenim „žabicama“.
Sada, godinama kasnije, sedim na istom mestu.
Ali nisam više sam.
Tu su moja žena. I moja deca.
Aleksandar, tek mu je pet godina, stoji pored mene, fokusiran i odlučan, baca kamenčiće u jezero. I nekako… već je bolji nego što sam ja bio u njegovim godinama. Svaki skok preko vode deluje kao mala pobeda.
Photo by:https://unsplash.com/photos/man-holding-stone-near-body-of-water-during-golden-hour-6LyEF5qHpVI
Anja je sa mamom, nežno hrani labudove, smeje se dok im prilaze, neustrašivi i graciozni.
Ubrzo, tišina se pretvara u radosni haos.
Deca trče ka pesku. Lopate u rukama, grade kule, zakopavaju autiće pa ih ponovo otkopavaju kao skriveno blago. Lopta se kotrlja, smeh je prati. Svet ponovo postaje bučan…
Photo by Dusan Stojkov
Ali u meni — ostaje tišina.
Jer sam shvatio nešto važno — tišina nije odsustvo buke. To je mir u njoj.
Kako sunce počinje da zalazi, usporavamo. Dva lagana kruga oko jezera — oko 800 metara svaki. Deca voze tricikle i balans bicikle, puni energije čak i na kraju dana.
Zatim, još jedno poslednje zaustavljanje.
Spoljna eko-teretana.
Nekoliko vežbi, nekoliko dubokih udaha, telo sustiže um.
Photo by Dusan Stojkov
I onda krećemo kući.
Umorni.Gladni.Ali srećni.
Baš pre nego što komarci odluče da je red na njih da uživaju u večeri.
I negde između smeha, pljuskanja vode i zvuka sitnih kamenčića koji preskaču po jezeru… shvatam nešto jednostavno, ali važno:
Nisam izgubio svoje mirno mesto.
Samo sam odrastao u njemu.
Photo by Dusan Stojkov
