Saint Tropez

A sleepy feeling, as if the world had been packed into a suitcase on the runway: palm trees cast shadows, laughter drowns out sadness, and somewhere nearby, new tiny joys are being unpacked - morning coffee, a fresh shirt, an apartment with the scent of the first evening. Everything is presented as a light understatement: sweet pain and relief at the same time, as if memory is trampling on the beaches and cannot decide to enter the house.

Packing “like a businessman” is almost a ritual: seven flights, one ticket, and a dozen missed messages, the internet ceases to reach the most important details. Forgot to warn you - and that's okay, life is too big for detailed reports; melatonin and sleep save you from the seriousness of plans. All this hustle and bustle turns into gentle irony: importance is packed in a zippered pocket, seriousness in a passport pocket.

In the end, there is a slight shrug of the shoulders - not from fatigue, but from surprise: new things, a new interior, a breakfast you can afford, and that simplest of constants - three chords of reality on which the world quietly rests.