That morning in Reykjavik carried a quiet kind of start. Nothing dramatic unfolded - no welcome signs, nobody waving. Stillness filled the air instead of greetings. Yet being there by myself seemed loud somehow, meaningful. As if stepping off the plane meant choosing my own company first. Choosing to explore somewhere strange just because it called out. Making space for nothing but me, which turned into its own form of arrival.
That time in Europe with Marco through Paris - already done. Yet here I stood, alone on purpose. Not because I lacked companions, but because choosing myself felt right. Grown now. Sure without approval. Joy found quietly, one step at a time.
