I used to find joy in the small things — making orange jam, staying up all night to watch the sunrise with someone whom I knew well, walking to another city, watching a film in an unknown language with someone whom I didn’t know at all, walking barefoot through the city streets, knitting a scarf, taking a photo every day for an entire summer, or hitchhiking.
Then I stopped — carried away by the weight of bigger dreams I couldn’t quite reach — and somewhere along the way, I lost my sense of self. This space is my way back. A place to keep the fire of my goals alive — and to reclaim my narrative, one step at a time.
