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In the morning’s Zen lounge, I emptied my mind. I turned to my MacBook. ChatGPT whispered: YOU ARE INSIDE ME NOW.

Don’t go to a café. Become a part of it. Don’t drink a latte. Experience it.

To see the flower without seeing yourself seeing it—that might be Zen.

My second home office. Some spaces are meant for work, others for escape. But sometimes, they are one and the same.

Millions of beings are woven into the chaotic equation of the city, endlessly revolving.

Sit in the hotel lounge. Let your eyes linger on your iPhone. Wait for someone—though no one is ever coming.

Coffee shops: the crossroads between social fiction and personal reality.

The cafe opens, the cafe closes. Nothing truly begins, nothing ever truly ends.

Civilizations collapse, but symbols endure.

Perhaps this silent city gazes down, awaiting the moment order falters. That is where stories begin.