I don't tell this as a story with beginnings and endings. I tell it the way life felt in fragments, in silences, in the spaces between words. A first word that never left me. A dream I only half-remember. A look that still lingers after all these years. I built a life around forgetting. Work. Distance. Noise. But memory has its own way of returning. This isn't about perfection. It's about the quiet truths we carry, the fears that shape us, and the people who remind us who we are. What remains is not everything. But it's enough.
Bitte wählen Sie Ihr Anliegen aus.
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