adam azahari

No one knows you. No one has a story about who you are. No one is waiting for you to be the person you were yesterday. You're just a stranger in a chair by the window, watching a city that doesn't need anything from you. It's the feeling that anything could happen. That the world is bigger than the walls you built around yourself back home. That the life you've been living is just one version of a life, and there are others, and they're not as far away as you thought. At home, you're fixed. Known. You fit into a shape that other people recognize, and after a while, you forget you're even in a shape at all. But here, alone, somewhere new, the shape dissolves. You could be anyone. You could be more of yourself than you've ever been. No one is watching to see if you stay consistent.