winter

Twenty-eight is still considered young, but already with a slight hangover from all the "it's time" and "I have to." Coming home at dawn, a cigaret on the go, phone in hand - and this strange feeling that life is moving forward, but it's not certain if it's in the right direction. Everything seems normal: friends, parties, work, jokes. Only inside does a quiet "and is this actually what it was all for?" ring. A generation accustomed to smiling at the camera and putting off growing up until tomorrow. And here it is - twenty-eight, and instead of a midlife crisis, her soft trailer arrives: a little sadness, a little weariness, and one thot clinging to the sky like smoke - "Is this all there is?"