The play tonight was about wanting something you can't have — and now I'm home proving that wrong. Want to be what I reach for?
The play tonight was about wanting something you can't have — and now I'm home proving that wrong. Want to be what I reach for?
The whole festival weekend is still humming in my skin and I don't want it to fade yet. Would you have climbed in, or just watched me soak?
Three stages going at once down there and I escaped to the roof to catch my breath. The sun on bare skin feels like its own kind of performance. Want to come up before the next act starts?
The whole street just turned into a stage and I'm supposed to be just watching today — but my body doesn't understand that word. Are you staying in the crowd with me?
The Old Town is empty at this hour and every cobblestone looks like it belongs in a painting. Found this wall and decided to stay a while. Would you have come walking with me?
There's a street festival in Plovdiv this week and I'm trying to fit my whole life into one suitcase. Want to come help me decide what stays and what comes?
My body still thinks it's on stage — two days home and every time I hit the floor it just wants to move. What would you do if you walked in on this?
First morning in weeks where the only person deciding what happens is me. Want to come see what that looks like?
First morning back in my own flat after weeks of sleeping on floors and air mattresses, and the silence feels louder than any festival crowd. Still wearing yesterday's train clothes and too tired to care what I look like — but somehow that feels like the most honest version of me. Would you have wanted to see this side, or only the polished one?
The last show ended and the walk back through the old streets felt too warm for anything else. Would you have walked beside me or stayed a step behind?