The Pull
The first time I stood on the Shibuya crossing at night, watching thousands of people cross at once like the whole thing was choreographed, something in me locked onto Tokyo. Three months there last summer and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. The shops, the trains, the feeling of being part of something alive—everything pulled me back to one thought: I have to live there.
So I made the decision. March 4th, I was flying back on a working holiday visa. I told Berlin, told my apartment, told the life I’d built there. It felt reckless but also inevitable, the kind of thing that stops being a choice once you voice it out loud.
Berlin made me who I am. But Tokyo woke me up. There’s a difference between where you come from and where you need to be. I went back, stayed longer than planned, learned that the thing pulling you toward a place is maybe the most honest navigation system you have.