By the time I returned home, I realised the most unfamiliar part of all these journeys wasn’t the places or the people. It was myself.
There were days I felt like I was swimming without knowing where the shore was. I could see things that kept me afloat, but nothing felt solid enough to stand on. I didn’t know if it was fear, exhaustion, or a quiet sadness that stayed even when the world around me was beautiful.
It’s strange how you can travel so far, meet so many faces, cross borders, take photos of moments you’ll never relive, and still come home feeling unsure about who you are becoming.
I started to notice that the deepest stranger I would ever meet
is the one inside me.
The part that feels too much,
wants to be stronger,
tries to move forward but gets tired,
keeps searching for a place that feels like a shore.
Maybe that’s why this project matters to me.
Not to solve anything,
not to fill the emptiness,
but to acknowledge it quietly.
If Between Strangers began with the world,
and then with people,
then this last part belongs to me
the part I am still learning to recognise.