Every morning, even weekends, a few minutes after 5:00 a.m., I start to hear footsteps in the apartment above me. I've never met the person who lives there but I feel a sense of solidarity with them. Those footsteps every morning are a comfort.
Over the past year, I have felt an incongruence between my fascination with the hustle and vibrance of the city and my introversion and love for quiet, alone time. And as I contemplate a move to Atlanta, that incongruence sometimes feeds my doubts.
But maybe it isn't an incongruence at all. It's not silence I seek. It's sanctuary, a private space of my own where I can retreat when my fascination with the city gets too much. It's the ability to seamlessly navigate between my desire to sometimes participate and sometimes observe. It's a desire to be connected with the greater world in both deeper ways through good relationships and more surface level ways like listening for the footsteps above me.
Maybe as a single introvert, a small apartment for my sanctuary in the middle of a vibrant city with so many opportunities to participate is exactly where I belong.
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