Chapter Text
The winds blow without warning, whispering ancient secrets among the branches, carrying leaves and security alike. They push us, sometimes gently, other times with the force of a storm, toward paths we would never have imagined taking. They are the messengers of fate, capricious and elusive, dragging us along hidden routes, leading us relentlessly toward the future that belongs to us, even if we don't yet know it.
We move through life with the illusion of control, convinced that every choice belongs completely to us, as if our will were enough to hold the helm amidst the waves. But a single gust, a single out-of-place circumstance, is enough for the course to change without warning. And it is then, in that moment of revelation, that we realize that we were never entirely free. That every decision, every stumble, every detour was silently guiding us toward that from which we were perhaps trying to flee.
Change always lurks on the horizon, latent, like a promise or a threat. We live in a perpetual balance on the thin line between stability and transformation, swaying to the rhythm of fragile hopes. We cling to the idea that, when the final wind comes to bring us down—the one that always comes, sooner or later—the place where we fall will be kinder than the hells we've already known.
Because that's what we are: walkers carried by invisible currents, navigators of a sea of uncertainty, who can only hope that the next wind will push us toward a destiny less cruel, or at least, brighter than the shadow we leave behind.