Moving is always a bit of chaos. 📦 Bags, boxes, lost chargers, a snack standing by the windowsill. But what I love most is not the moment of unpacking, but the first night. 🌙 When the city outside the window is still strange, and the apartment does not smell like me.

I sat on the floor in an empty room, with a glass of cold water, and caught these sounds: the horn of a tram, the barking of a dog somewhere in the yard, the click of an elevator. 🚋 Everything is unfamiliar. But for some reason, this is what gave me peace. It was as if something died inside — and it immediately became easier to breathe. 💨

I left the balcony door open. I listened. Sometimes it seemed as if someone was calling my name on the street — so clearly, although I know for sure that no one here knows me. 👂 A feeling of a complete absence of the past. New furniture, a new me.

Then I realized that it is in these moments — between the past and the future — that you can do anything. 🔄 You can start nothing, you can change everything. You can drink coffee in this kitchen in silence and feel: finally, this is my territory. ☕️ Without habits. Only what will appear again.

The next morning, I bought a crispy apple and a warm bun. 🍏 Without a bag. Just like that, in my hand. I walked without headphones, looked out the windows, listened to other people's conversations. And smiled. 😊 Not because everything was perfect — but because it was different.

Now I love this feeling - to be nowhere and to be myself. 💫 Not to belong to the city or to people. Just to stand on the balcony and know: everything starts from this night. Even if you don't know how exactly.