Sofia In Transit
There’s a strange comfort in the monotony of it all, tracing the same paths, watching the same landmarks pass by, as if they, too, are part of the cycle.
The graveyard I pass each day stands still while time rushes on, a quiet reminder that no matter how far I go, the path always leads back. Rushing to work, I chase the ticking clock, only to find myself chasing it again on the last tram home.
Yet within the repetition, subtle shifts appear—the morning light changes, the air carries rain one day, dust the next.
A song on the radio recalls another version of myself. Even in sameness, the city breathes, and I breathe with it. Each day, I set out; each night, I return—always forward, always back, moving toward an unknown future.
