I find my soul in the jungle of humanity. When I look back at my life, most of it has been inside cities, and that has always been a choice. I grew up in a small village, surrounded by nature, yet I never felt that deep connection to the human family as I do in the city. There is something about walking through the streets, moving among strangers, and feeling like just one small story among the endless narratives of the human race. In that realization, I feel at home.
Every day, I walk past countless people—faces I will never know, stories I will never hear. But even in this anonymity, I feel a tribal sense of belonging. The city holds an energy that pulses through me, a reminder that I am part of something vast and interconnected. Unlike the solitude of the mountains, here, I can be alone without isolation. It’s a paradox I have come to appreciate: solitude in a crowd, freedom within structure.
As a child, when asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I imagined becoming a nun or a hermit. I believed that to be alone was to be at peace. But now, I see that solitude is not about where we are—it is about how we exist within ourselves. I can stand in the busiest streets, surrounded by the hum of life, and still feel the quiet clarity of my own thoughts. The city allows that. It gives space for both immersion and retreat.
The human jungle is where I have built my world, where I continue to explore, create, and reflect. It is an ever-changing landscape of light and shadow, movement and stillness. I no longer seek escape. Instead, I embrace this place where I belong, not as an observer but as part of the living, breathing entity that is the city.
