I was looking for myself.

In a city of busy streets, lights reflecting off the wet concrete, voices escaping from the bars late at night.

In the glory of the cities at sunset, everything seemed to welcome me. Promising me a place. A silhouette among the others.

And yet, something remained distant. An inaccessible softness.

I went back home.

The familiar scent of flowers, the peaceful rhythm of everyday gestures, the warm air kissing my skin. Here, nothing was spectacular. Nothing urged me to leave.

In this slowness, I found a kind of balance.

A calm that didn't need to seduce.

A discreet beauty, almost ordinary.

A deep connection, almost invisible, that promised nothing – except to be there.

Back in this welcoming land, everything felt familiar.

And different.

The same streets, the same faces, the same lights but everything has changed, I have changed.

Should I leave? Stay?

If you can stay, stay.

Leave, if you must.

I stand between comfort and distance, between what I have discovered and what I have left behind.

Two places inhabit me. Two spaces shape me.

I am here. And elsewhere.

Each place becomes a mirror and a memory. An inner landscape where I try to find, in the tumult or in the silence, a form of harmony.