People often think that having a wonderful trip mandatorily means flying across the world, getting as far as possible. It can be true, but it isn’t always true
It’s raining outside but you don’t mind, you are home. The breadcrumbs all over the kitchen floor, the empty fridge and the postcards, that you diligently collected during your trips, hung on the wall. A small flat in a student dorm in the middle of nowhere. Home. How can you call ‘home’ a place like this?
This city makes me think of something that totally belongs to another planet and another way of enjoying life. I see a lot of bikes running, but people don’t seem to be in a hurry: even if they are, they show themselves so calm, as if the world could never end today, but neither tomorrow or the day after