There are people who pack their suitcases a week in advance. They fold their clothes by the day, roll up their socks, stick stickers on their shampoo bottles. I'm not one of them. My suitcase packs itself. Or so I like to think.

When I was a child, my mother always packed my backpack herself: T-shirt - shorts - book - exercise - something sweet. The things arrived back almost untouched. It turned out that the habit remained in adulthood.

Before a trip, I pull my suitcase out into the middle of the room and just put the first thing that catches my eye in it. Jeans that I haven't ironed for a month. A T-shirt with someone else's city name. A notebook with notes about dreams.

I also always put little funny treasures in there: a postcard with the wish "be brave", an old train ticket, a brooch that I bought from a street artist. Why? So that a foreign city will not meet me empty-handed.

Sometimes I catch myself thinking that a suitcase is not about things. It is about a little confidence: no matter what you forget, you will still find what you need.

I once left for another city without a toothbrush and my favorite jeans - but I met the sunset on the roof of a hostel and drank lemonade with boys from Sweden. They treated me to chewing gum, and I had the most minty evening of my life.

What will you never forget to put in your suitcase? I - the belief that the road itself will teach you what to take and what to leave.