I thought time was what I needed.
Time away. Time to wander. Time without obligation.
And for a while, that was true.
But somewhere between the applause of a magic competition and the quiet of another borrowed room, I began to feel it again –not urgency, not panic– but weight. The kind that doesn’t ask you to move faster, only to choose more carefully.
Act II gave me permission to play.
Act III would ask me to live with the consequences of that freedom.
Up until now, everything had been reversible. A bus ticket, a flight, a goodbye said with the comfort of “for now”. Even creativity had been optional –something I could visit, then leave behind when it became inconvenient.
That was about to change.
The question was no longer what could I try next?
It was what am I willing to carry forward?
This is where movement turns into direction. Where wonder meets responsibility. Where healing is no longer something that happens to you but something you must actively protect.
Act III begins not with a departure, but with a decision.
