You arrive somewhere new.
A street you’ve never walked.
A city with unfamiliar light.
Nothing from your past has moved.
And yet something shifts.
The memories you carry rearrange themselves.
Old choices read differently.
Former versions of you feel more distant.
Not erased. Just re-positioned.
Travel does this. So does growth.
Each new place reflects back a self you didn’t realise you’d already outgrown.
The foreignness isn’t the city.
It’s who you no longer are standing quietly beside you.
The past isn’t fixed behind you.
It reshapes as you move forward.
