🖎 " This piece was born in a strangely beautiful moment — in the middle of a noisy afternoon, with a rumbling stomach and a half-eaten baguette in hand. Thoughts came in fragments—reflective, rebellious, raw. I didn’t want them to slip away, so I rushed back to my desk, fearing they’d dissolve like mist if I waited too long. What started as scattered musings turned into a dialogue — between me and myself, between hunger and clarity, between the many selves I carry and the vast stillness behind them. This is a piece I wrote for myself, for what I’ve been seeking, and maybe, for you too — a fellow traveler on the same winding path I now call: " The Way of Returning " -------------------------------------------------------- ⧞ - ------------------------------------------------------------------ There are moments when the world falls silent. No noise, no goals, no validation—just the sound of the wind brushing against the window or the gentle grumble of ...
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