Decorations, Cats, and the First Attempt to Scale

March 12, 2025

After the first aquarium, things stopped being simple.

I started adding decorations.
Not because they were needed — but because I wanted the space to feel alive. Small details appeared: shapes, colors, objects that had no functional purpose beyond changing how the tank looked and how I perceived it.

Some of them were clearly unnecessary.
Some were just fun.

At the same time, cats became part of the process.
They watched the water. They followed movement behind the glass. They treated the aquarium like a window into another world. I didn’t plan for that interaction, but it quickly became part of the daily routine.

Looking back, this was the moment when curiosity started driving decisions more than logic.

And then came the first real jump.

I bought a 30-liter panoramic aquarium.

Not because the 10-liter tank was limiting me.
Not because I had a clear plan.
Simply because it felt like the next step.

More space. More glass. More potential — without a defined purpose.

At that point, I didn’t know what I wanted to build.
I didn’t think in terms of systems or ecosystems.
I just wanted to see what would happen if I made the container bigger.

This wasn’t scaling in any meaningful sense.
It was an instinctive expansion — a quiet belief that “more space” would eventually explain itself.

It didn’t.
But it opened the door to asking better questions later.

That phase wasn’t efficient.
It wasn’t planned.
But it was necessary.

Because before understanding structure, balance, and intent, I had to go through a period of exploration — decorating, experimenting, and scaling without knowing why.

That uncertainty became part of the foundation.