Editorial: L’Étrangere

Maybe I’m only the character in someone’s dream.

I found myself lost and stranded. Somewhere I’ve never been before and maybe I’ll never come back to this place. A broken car in the middle of nowhere. It’s calm and I can hear the waves come and go every minute. From time to time a stranger passes.

The silence is overwhelming. Every breath is as loud as the ocean, every movement seems to be too much. Adding more would be unnecessary. There’s nothing but me. And I’m overlooking the sea. The endlessness is scaring me, but I’m letting myself drift away on white horses.


Is it wrong to feel lost? Is it wrong to be not sure about yourself? Your life? The world?

Maybe I don’t exist. Maybe I’m only the character in someone’s dream and I’m going to be vanished the moment my dreamer awakes. 

I’m afraid. I’ve always been afraid. And I can’t understand how others can live their lives without fear. You can’t prove that you really are. That the universe wasn’t created just a second ago and all your thoughts and memories weren’t created that very moment.

It’s strange to be so unsure about life in general.

But you have to make a move. You are forced to do so.

It’s all about the action, not about the concept.

Overthinking can be deadly. It poisons your soul and body. Maybe you’re going to feel weak and tired. What are we supposed to do as humans? Why are we so careless so often?

It’s not about the concept, it’s about the action. Maybe if I’m telling me this one more time I’m finally going to act. 

Did you realize it’s a tautology? A circle? 

I’m spinning around again and again and again…

I’m sitting inside my broken car and I think about making it work. Somehow.

And the waves are passing by. 


Top. COS.

Skirt. Zara.

Bag. Chloé.

Shoes. Gucci.


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