India
The Shock
I land in Delhi and step straight into a storm of sound and motion. Even after dark, the streets burn bright—rickshaws dart past, vendors shout over each other, scooters squeeze through impossible gaps. The smells hit me first—cardamom, diesel, hot sugar, smoke. Then the heat. Then the horns.
It should feel like too much. But it doesn’t.
Because inside, something’s still. Like a thread of music winding through the noise. I feel grounded in the chaos, alert, alive. This is what I came for—not comfort, but the electric jolt of arrival. Of not knowing where the road leads, only that I want to follow it.