I can stand at a traffic light and watch a perfectly lined-up column of cars pass by and feel a strange, almost childish happiness. When someone asks me what I’m into, I don’t think about fashion or parties. I think about engines, the feeling of speed, and how the car seems to read your mind when you’re driving alone in the city at night. 🌃

And you know what? I stopped explaining it to anyone a long time ago. People nod, smile, or laugh — and that’s okay. The main thing is that I know: it’s a part of me, and I’m okay with it. I don’t need approval to feel joy from what seems weird to others.

Sometimes it seems to me that love for cars teaches more than any relationship: patience, attention to detail, enjoyment of simple things. And also the courage to be yourself, even if your interests do not fit into the "social norms". ⚙️💖