I love going where there seems to be no need to go. For example, going to the store for bread and taking a wrong turn. Entering a yard where you've never been. Going up to the floor of an old house just to see how it smells.

One day I went out with the idea of ​​buying milk, but half an hour later I found myself at an old stadium where no one has played for a long time. There was a broken fence, cracked asphalt and a couple of teenagers kicking a ball. I sat on a bench and sat for about fifteen minutes, listening to someone laughing and swearing.
And it was better than any plan.

I often think that the city is a huge labyrinth that we ourselves lock in with habits. "I won't go there, it's not interesting, there's nothing to see there." But what if I take a risk?
Sometimes, one such “wrong” walk changes the whole day.

On the way back, I bought an ice cream. I sat on the steps of some building, ate it and watched as passersby looked at me askance. Let them look. Let them think I’m weird. I really am a little weird — I like to get lost in places I “shouldn’t be”.

When I return home after such “unnecessary” routes, I feel alive. As if I’m not just a dot on the map, but a person who can still take wrong turns — and find something of her own there.