I love parking lots, gas stations, roadside cafés, and airports — I hate train stations and big markets!
In all those places, you feel a bit like a wanderer — but there’s a difference between being homeless and being a drifter.

Once, I wrote this note in my phone, not realizing how many journeys, hardships, and roads were still ahead of me. Over the past four years, I’ve been to so many airports, stations, and roadside cafés that I’ve lost count.
And recently I wrote down this thought:
“I’m in between every place. I feel at home at airports and parking spots. I love them because everyone is equal there. Those are transition zones. No one knows what comes next. That’s how I feel about my life now.”

What can I say — in one day I speak three languages, and even my thoughts form the same way — multilingual. I can hardly keep my focus, I keep pulling myself back to reality, forcing myself to finish the things I’ve started. Sometimes successfully.

Now I want to gather all these scattered thoughts I sometimes write on my phone in one place.
Maybe they’ll form a complete story.

I see them as notes scribbled on napkins from roadside cafés.
My “napkins” are safely kept on my phone.
I’ll be sharing them here.

This is my personal space — warm and cozy.
You’re welcome to join. Pour yourself some coffee, and let’s talk.