The City of Glass

Dear Delyara, I live in a world that expects me to be a machine. Faster, better, louder. I feel like I am made of glass, and everyone is throwing stones of "more" at me. I am exhausted by the performative joy of the modern world. I came to Delyara to be silent. I wrote about the beauty of a morning where I do nothing. I wrote about the power of the word "No." I am reclaiming my time from the vampires of productivity. I am leaving the "hustle" at the door. Tonight, I am just a human being, breathing in the dark, writing by candlelight. And that is enough.