i exist in fragments, scattered like footnotes across cities i’ve never fully left. some parts of me stay where the light first touched my ambition, others wander into rooms i only recognize by feeling. i am never whole in one place, but i am never absent either.
Doesn’t matter what country I land in, I somehow always end up in a vinyl store. I just love black records that much, because back home music only feels right when it’s spinning on a turntable.