A tiny snail

wanders along

in its quiet slowness

Trash

dumped in the wild,

barely hidden

at the foot of a tree

or along a lonely trail.

Broken plaster, plastic bags,

food wrappers,

cigarette packs, bottles,

all of it

scattered there,

so ugly in nature.

The real change was me.

For the first time in my life

I owned a house. Now

I live in my place.

And everything feels

like night and day.

Hand in hand,

night and silence roam the streets,

like lovers,

who exist only

when no one's looking.

Such a stone giant,

standing tall and proud before me.

I was just an eight-year-old girl.

Notre-Dame de Paris,

a grand old lady

who left me in awe.

A city’s first New Year’s morning is mine.

I run through the empty woods,

while everybody’s still asleep.

No noise.

No voices.

Just my footsteps,

my breath,

and a quiet sense of fulfillment.