I’m not a big fan of loud crowds. I love listening to the rain tapping on the window and drinking tea with bergamot when it’s dark outside and smells like autumn. Sometimes I feel like I don’t quite belong to this time — I dream too much and get attached to little things too easily.

I have this habit of writing everything down — thoughts, random phrases, pieces of dreams. On my phone, on scraps of paper, even on old movie tickets. Sometimes I read them back and laugh: it feels like a different girl wrote them. Maybe she did — I’m always changing.

People say I’m calm, but inside there’s a storm. I’ve just learned how to smile through it. I like to believe that everything happens for a reason, even when it hurts at first.

And if someone asked who I am, I’d probably say: “I’m searching.” For myself, for my place, for my rhythm. And even if things aren’t clear yet, I keep walking — step by step, with a cup of tea and a quiet hope that something truly mine is waiting ahead.