6.12.25: Too Quiet

Chiang Mai’s quiet tonight. Street dogs asleep, motorbikes off-duty. The air smells like wet pavement and fried garlic. I pass a 7-Eleven with fluorescent lights that hum like a warning. Inside, a teenage couple is fighting in whispers over which ramen to buy. I grab a toastie, nod at the cashier, and step back into the mist. The city doesn’t rush me. No one here does. That’s the trick: time moves different when no one’s watching. I take the long way home, barefoot and unbothered. The toastie’s gone before I hit the elevator. Life feels weird. But weird feels like progress.