I like to escape....
I love to escape because you notice things you don’t usually think about.
I live in a city—not a huge one, but big enough to make you miss having more trees and fewer people. Sometimes, you don’t even realize how much the noise, the crowds, and the concrete wear on you until you step away from it. And then, suddenly, you remember what breathing is supposed to feel like.
I live in a city—not a huge one, but big enough to make you miss having more trees and fewer people. Sometimes, you don’t even realize how much the noise, the crowds, and the concrete wear on you until you step away from it. And then, suddenly, you remember what breathing is supposed to feel like.
I’ve been learning about biomimicry—the way nature solves problems with designs so simple and effective that humans spend decades trying to copy them.
There’s a tree with a hollow that looks like a door, just waiting for someone to step inside. The waterfall has natural stairs leading right up to it, its flow like a perfect shower sculpted by time. Even the rocks near the falls look like windows, framing the world in a way no architect ever could. Cities make you wonder why people choose to live there. But out here, the choice makes itself.
There’s a tree with a hollow that looks like a door, just waiting for someone to step inside. The waterfall has natural stairs leading right up to it, its flow like a perfect shower sculpted by time. Even the rocks near the falls look like windows, framing the world in a way no architect ever could. Cities make you wonder why people choose to live there. But out here, the choice makes itself.
I find myself wondering a lot about the people who live in the city. Not because I want to interact with them—just what made them choose this life, this place. In nature, it makes sense. The trees, the quiet, the way the land just is. But a city? All that noise, the constant motion—why here? Living under a rock seems less like an insult and more like a goal now.
