Aegean Notebooks

🤍 Today I simply want to say thank you.

Aegean Notebooks has reached 2755 subscribers, and to me it is not just a number.
It feels like a quiet sign that somewhere in the world there are people who also need silence, the sea, and simple everyday moments.

Thank you to everyone who watches my videos, leaves a like, and writes kind comments.
It truly warms my heart that this channel has never received a rude or negative comment — not even once.

I film the sea as it is: in winter and in summer, under sunshine and under grey skies.
No filters, no “perfect picture”.
Just the life I love.

And yes… all the cats you see on my channel are familiar to me.
My family and I feed them and take care of them — we simply don’t film those moments, because this channel is not about that.
It is about calmness, sea air, and quiet days.

Thank you for being here 🤍🌊🐾
With love, Lilia

🤍 Сегодня я просто хочу сказать спасибо.

На канале Aegean Notebooks уже 2755 подписчиков — и для меня это не цифра.
Это ощущение, что где-то в мире есть люди, которым тоже нужна тишина, море и простые моменты.

Спасибо всем, кто смотрит мои видео, пишет комментарии и оставляет лайк.
Мне невероятно тепло от того, что здесь всегда добрые слова — ни одного грубого комментария за всё время.

Я снимаю море таким, какое оно есть: зимой и летом, в солнце и в сером небе.
Без фильтров, без “идеальной картинки”.
Просто жизнь, которую я люблю.

И да… всех котиков, которых вы видите на канале, я знаю.
Мы с моей семьёй их кормим и заботимся о них — просто не делаем из этого отдельный сюжет.
Этот канал о другом: о спокойствии, о дыхании моря и о маленьких днях.

Спасибо, что вы рядом 🤍🌊🐾
С любовью, Лилия

2 days ago (edited) | [YT] | 6

Aegean Notebooks

Cats of Corfu

Cats in Corfu appear before people do.
You may not be fully awake yet, and they are already there — sitting on warm steps, stone fences, and near doors that stopped being just doors long ago.

They do not ask for attention.
They allow it.

It feels as if the island belongs to them no less than to the sea.
They know every shadow, every shortcut, every hour when the sun becomes gentle — and the moments when it’s better to slip quietly into a courtyard.

Cats of Corfu never rush.
They live in harmony with the rhythm of the place.
They sleep where it feels right.
They appear where it is calm.
They disappear when it becomes noisy.

I often noticed that I oriented myself by them.
If a cat lies across the road — you can walk slowly.
If one sits near a café — this is a place to linger.
If a cat looks toward the sea — the day will be long.

There is no attachment in the usual sense.
But there is presence.
They are nearby — not because they have to be, but because this is how life unfolded.

Cats of Corfu are part of the landscape.
Like stone. Like olive trees. Like the shadow of shutters.
They do not decorate the island.
They live within it.

Sometimes it feels as if they understand better than anyone how one should be here:
not to hurry, not to explain, and to choose a warm place in the sun.

And perhaps this is their quiet wisdom —
not independence, but the ability to be where you feel well.

Sometimes it is details like these that make a place truly alive —
and stay with you longer than views and routes.

🌿 More quiet notes and moments from Greece:
www.aegean-notebooks.com/

2 weeks ago | [YT] | 34

Aegean Notebooks

Crocuses of Corfu.I heard them before I saw them.
Not with my eyes — with the air.

A delicate scent, almost weightless, appeared so unexpectedly
that I stopped, trying to understand where it was coming from.
It was softer than any perfume —
not sweet, not insistent,
but clean and transparent, like morning light.

It was in Mon Repos.
The park still held the warmth of the past summer,
yet something else was already breathing in the air —
calm, moist, autumnal.

Only then did I see them.
A field of crocuses.

Gentle, almost fragile,
they spread beneath my feet so naturally,
as if they had always been there
and had never truly disappeared.

Crocuses in Corfu appear after the rains.
In November, when the tourist season has dissolved,
when the island returns to itself,
they are the first to emerge.

They grow everywhere —
in parks, along paths, between trees —
without asking permission
and without waiting to be noticed.

And there is something deeply island-like in this:
life continues
when no one is watching.

What struck me was not their number,
but their calm.

They do not try to stand out.
They do not compete.
They do not prove their beauty.

The crocuses of Corfu exist in their own time.
Quietly.
Briefly.
Without a desire to stay longer than necessary.

And perhaps that is why they are remembered so clearly.
Because they appear not at the peak,
but in the pause.
Not in anticipation,
but in continuation.

Since then, November smells like crocuses to me.
The scent of earth after rain,
air without haste,
and an island that becomes home to itself again.

Sometimes the strongest impressions come out of season.
They arrive when the world stops being a display window
and starts being real.

✧ This essay is part of my personal journal on
Aegean Notebooks
www.aegean-notebooks.com/

2 weeks ago (edited) | [YT] | 4

Aegean Notebooks

The Sand Lily of Corfu
I didn’t notice her at first.
She didn’t stand out and didn’t try to be seen.
White, almost translucent, she was growing right in the scorching sand —
in a place where it seemed nothing should grow at all.

The sun was high.
The sand was hot, almost burning.
And right there, at the very edge of the shore, a lily was blooming.

She looked fragile.
But the longer I watched her, the clearer it became:
her strength was not in protection, but in the ability simply to be.

She didn’t hide.
She didn’t seek shade.
She didn’t resist the conditions.
She just grew — quietly, confidently, in her own way.

In that moment, I felt a strange sense of recognition.
As if this flower was speaking to me without words.
As if there was something deeply personal in its existence.

I thought about this image for a long time.
About how one can remain gentle in a difficult space.
How one can keep light without losing stability.
How one can stop fighting — and still bloom.

This meeting stayed with me.
Not as a memory of Corfu,
but as an inner point of reference.

Sometimes we don’t need symbols.
Sometimes one living moment is enough
for something inside to fall into place.

The sand lily promised nothing.
She simply was.
And perhaps that is where her rare beauty lies.

Some images stay with us for a long time —
as a quiet reminder that even in heat and silence,
it is possible to keep your light.

From my notes — Aegean Notebooks
www.aegean-notebooks.com/

2 weeks ago (edited) | [YT] | 8