There are days when the world speaks far too loudly. Too many people, too many voices, too many expectations. And so, like someone retreating into themselves, I close the door, silence the notifications, and dive into the quiet that belongs only to me.

It’s in this space that demands nothing of me that I bloom. The absence of gazes returns the grace that the mirror insists on denying when I’m tired. The woman who stares back at me, with eyes full of judgment and resentment-lined wrinkles, vanishes. In her place, a version of me emerges—one who dances without fear, recites forgotten verses, and invents worlds with the tips of her fingers.

The same record plays for the umpteenth time—not for lack of choice, but because there’s something magical in repeating what moves us. Each note feels new, each pause more profound. And I, between one song and the next, twirl across the room as if the floor were a stage and the ceiling, the sky.

Solitude, far from punishment, is my alchemy. It transforms boredom into creation, silence into wisdom. I open invisible gates: of memory, imagination, courage. And when I notice, joy hasn’t arrived with fanfare—it settled in gently, like someone who knows they’re welcome.

I’m not fleeing. I’m returning to what sets my soul on fire. 🔥❤️

©️ Beatriz Esmer