I'm sitting in a flat in the centre of Oxford, doing a semester-long program.

A year ago, we never would've imagined that I could live alone. That I could live alone in another country, without my doctors and parents. That I could study and be myself and learn and make mistakes and keep growing.

I'm sitting in my (not really mine) creaky black chair, putting aside a one-page essay I have to finish, in order to read breaking news.

Around 30 minutes ago, the announcement came that the Colombian government and the FARC guerrilla group have reached an agreement on the fifth and toughest part of a possible peace accord. They're saying the conflict should end, at most, by March 2016.

I've been on this earth for 20 years, 3 months, 2 weeks and 3 days. Of those, none have known a day of peace in Colombia. For the first time, I (and so many of us) will know what it means to live in a time of peace.

I've often felt naive, too optimistic for my own good. But there are days here and there when the universe and those around you remind you that, sometimes, it's good to be hopeful and to dream the impossible. Because maybe, just maybe, the impossible can come to be.