I sometimes think that my city grows at night. 🌙 As soon as I fall asleep, it makes another street, another alley, in which I will definitely get lost. 🏙 This does not scare me. On the contrary, I like that I never know it completely.

There are places where I have been dozens of times - but each time they are different. 🔄 I change, and the city adapts. Here is this park, where I sat with a friend on a bench and dreamed that I would leave forever. 🌳 Here is this bridge, where I first screamed so loudly at night that it became easier for me to breathe. 🌉 This is the alley where I once lost my umbrella and never went back for it. ☔️

I have a favorite game - get on the bus and ride to the end of the route, even if I don’t need to go there at all. 🚌 Look out the window, make up stories about people at the bus stops. 🪟 Maybe some of them are also just riding, to escape boredom or sadness. 😔

Sometimes I think: the city is not houses and roads. 🏘 These are people who leave something in it. Their laughter, anger, kisses in elevators, tears in the entrances. 💋 All this remains in the walls, is absorbed into the asphalt, whispers to us when we are in a hurry and do not hear. 🗣

I know that I can leave. At any moment. 🚂 Buy a ticket and disappear on another street in another city. But something always keeps me here. Maybe I haven't found all my streets yet. Or they haven't found me yet.

When they tell me that everything is familiar and there's nothing to see, I just smile. 😊 The city grows at night. And tomorrow I'll have a new street, a new house, a new door that I haven't been behind yet. 🚪 And maybe someone will open it by accident, and I'll come up with a story for myself again. 📖