More and more I found myself at a loss for words and didn’t want to hear other people talking either. Their conversations seemed false and empty. I preferred to look at the sea, which said nothing and never made you feel alone.
My thoughts, my soul, my nomadic madness. I’ve always been searching for something greater, desperate for an untouched and promising entity to lead me to somewhere. Always caught between reality and the metaphysical, wide-eyed and hopeful for something more. I am the ‘other woman’. The ‘nomad’. The girl who belonged to both no – one and the whole world. The girl with no fixed designation, the girl with a dozen homes in the arms of a dozen strangers. Searching. Wandering. Yearning.