📍Germany, 4 days before departure to Tashkent

It is early evening, and I sit in a crowded train, headphones in my ears, an adventure novel resting in my lap. I am traveling from the city where I once studied to the city where I once grew up. Somewhere along this route, deep in the south of Germany, the weight of the past years slips from my shoulders, dissolving into the rhythm of the tracks.

As I turn the pages of my book, a strange lightness spreads through me—something that tastes like freedom. As if a balloon is filling my chest, ready to lift me into the air. My body feels weightless. I gaze out the window, and the world sharpens before my eyes, as though a veil has been drawn back. My gaze drifts to the man across from me—an elderly gentleman. I notice the fine lines on his forehead, the glint of light in his glasses. And I revel in how vividly I perceive him, the train, the fleeting landscape outside.

I feel high on nothing but the moment itself. This sensation has arrived unbidden, weaving itself into my body, my thoughts, my awareness. I welcome it. I am grateful—to be here, to be moving, to have the time to notice. The world outside, the world within.

Perhaps I am being sentimental, but I don’t care to question it. And if I were—what does it matter? I just want to be. To feel.

The uncertainty ahead does not frighten me. I greet it like an old friend, wrap my arms around it, let it settle beside me.

My senses are alive.

Somewhere between the city I once studied in and the city I once called home, a circle quietly closes—only for another to open. A seamless motion, like an endless row of infinity symbols: ♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️

And somewhere, a new space unfolds, brimming with possibility.

I smile at the hollowness in my stomach, secretly hoping this feeling will linger—weeks, months, forever. But I accept that it may pass. Perhaps it will return one day, unexpected as now.

For the moment, I am floating. And for this weightlessness, I am grateful.

I glance at the adventure novel in my hands and smirk at the thought that soon, I will be the protagonist of my own.