The Rooms Where I Hide

There are places we enter not to disappear, but to endure. Rooms shaped by silence, dim light and distance, where the outside world loses its authority.

The Rooms Where I Hide is not about cowardice. It is about the instinct to retreat when everything external becomes too loud, too sharp, too invasive.

Inside these inner rooms, time slows. Thoughts echo differently. The cold is not punishment, but shelter.

What looks like withdrawal from the outside may be the only way to remain intact within.

And yet even in refuge, something lingers — the knowledge that hiding can protect you, but it can never fully free you from what followed you inside.