This series showcases different voices, exploring the thoughts and feelings of fictional characters from various backgrounds and walks of life. Each post provides a glimpse into the unique experiences of individuals across different ages, genders, and professions.

" My thoughts are fragile, tangled threads, endless but never shared. They feel too simple to be admired, too fleeting to be held. So, I chose silence. It was softer, safer. Suddenly it feels like a note out of tune, a bird in a sky that’s not mine. I don’t want to chase after the world, that just doesn't seem to be mine—I just watch, from the edges, never quite stepping in. Sometimes, I wonder if I belong to a different time, a different rhythm, one that speaks in quiet whispers and slow beats. To others, I am a quiet puzzle, slipping away unnoticed. The ones who are meant to find me will see what others miss—the quiet beneath the fire, the stillness with depth. Anxiety lurks, waiting for a crack, but I've risen before—and I will again. I won’t forget how to swim.

And yet, there are moments—tiny, golden moments—when I feel light. When laughter spills out, when words flow freely, when fear is forgotten. When people look at me and stay. Those moments remind me that I’m not just the quiet one in the corner. I am the flame, the storm, the story yet to be told. A few souls know me well, the ones who see the tangled mess beneath the still waters. With them, I am loud and free, like a child again. They know my silence is not emptiness, but protection. With them, I need no shield. With them, I laugh without care, unburdened, untouched by the weight of the world. With them, I joke and kid like never before, as if time slows and the chaos of life fades into the background. I wish they knew how special they are to me, how deeply grateful I am for meeting them—even if only for two months, for one week, or for an hour. These fleeting moments, brief yet bright, remind me that connection is not measured by time, but by the depth of understanding and the warmth shared in silence and laughter. These souls are my strength, my hope, and the reminder to keep nurturing the inner child within me. At forty, I long to be ten again. To run barefoot through life, unafraid, free of loss, untangled by time. To hold onto the innocence that the world says I must release. But I won’t stop. I will keep moving, keep believing, keep breathing. And one day, maybe, I won’t be sinking—I’ll be soaring. Like a late-blooming butterfly, I will rise—embracing the journey, though delayed, still full of purpose. In quiet resilience, I'll remember: it's never too late to spread my wings. As the butterfly finds its rhythm, so will I—soaring, freed by the beauty of each fleeting moment."

....a woman, poised in her 40s, watches the world blur past her cab window, as her phone rings and with a subtle smile, she answers; going back into her own world.

- Sa.Ka.