YukiLewd

When I first arrived in Florence, I felt as though I had stepped into a painting.. The soft golden light touched everything the old stones, the bridges, even the air. I spent hours walking through the narrow streets, following the scent of bread and coffee, listening to conversations in Italian I didn't understand but somehow felt comforted by. I visited the Uffizi, stared at the Birth of Venus for too long, and ate gelato by the Arno River while the sun dipped behind the buildings. I felt both small and incredibly alive, like a part of something old and beautiful.. It was my first taste of Europe, and it made my heart ache in the best way.

From Florence, I traveled to Prague. The mood there was different quieter, colder, more mysterious. The cobblestones felt older, and the buildings looked like something from a fairy tale.. I loved the gothic spires, the way the fog curled around them in the morning. I climbed up to the castle and looked down at the red rooftops, wondering how many lives had unfolded beneath them. At night, I would wrap myself in a scarf and wander the city, letting myself get lost. I wasn't lonely. For the first time in a long while, I was simply enjoying my own company, observing, breathing, and learning how to move through the world alone..

Eventually, I found myself in Riga. I hadn't planned to stay long—it was just meant to be a quiet stop between other destinations. But the city felt different. It was calm without being dull, spacious without feeling empty. The air was crisp, and everything seemed to move a little slower. I rented a small flat on a quiet street with an old wooden door and windows that let in the soft Baltic light. The first morning, I walked to the market, bought fresh bread, and sat on a bench in a park I didn't know the name of.. A dog passed by. Then a child. Then a gust of wind. It was nothing extraordinary, but I felt something shift in me. For the first time in weeks, I wasn't trying to capture anything. I was just there.

Days passed like that peaceful, simple, without pressure. I visited museums, sat in cafés, watched the trams go by. I started drawing again, something I hadn't done in years. I stopped trying to document every moment for memory and started living inside them instead. Riga wasn't loud or flashy, but it held me in a way no other city had.. It gave me space to breathe, to reflect, to rest. I realized that travel wasn't always about chasing excitement.. Sometimes, it's about finding the quiet places that let you hear your own thoughts again.

Now when I think of Europe, it's not just the cathedrals or the art or the history that come to mind it's that one morning in Riga, when everything felt still. That's the moment I carry with me. And maybe, in a way, it's the reason I left home in the first place not to see the world, but to return to myself.