Sometimes I just need to be alone. Not in a dramatic way. Not because I’m sad or overwhelmed. Just... because. Because silence gives me a kind of space that nothing else can. That’s what this little trip was about—walking through the hills of San Diego on my own, following the path without needing a reason, with no one else to explain anything to. I didn’t plan much. I just went. The sun was soft, the air was light, and I felt like I had stepped into something quiet enough to match what I was carrying inside.
There’s this valley—one of those places that most people don’t talk about, but it stays with you once you’ve seen it. On one side: Valencia, full of motion and buildings and noise. On the other: San Diego and Naguanagua, slower, greener, more open. The valley doesn’t separate them like a wall—it just flows between them like a soft breath. And standing there, on one of those sloping hills, I could see both lives at once. Cities that touch but never merge. It felt strangely human. Like how we often live close to each other, but always carry our own quiet borders inside.
Everything looked still from up there. Not frozen—just calm. The kind of stillness that lets you actually see things. I wasn’t thinking about work, or plans, or who I hadn’t called back. I was just watching. The way light softened the edges of the mountains. The way the grass curved with the land. It reminded me of how the earth is always speaking, just in a much slower language than we’re used to. I didn’t need answers. I didn’t even have questions. I just stood there, listening with my eyes.
I took a few pictures, mostly for myself. To remember how it felt, more than how it looked. The photos won’t capture the silence, or the breeze, or that strange feeling of being right where I needed to be. But maybe they’ll remind me of it. That’s what I’ve come to love about places like this. Not the views. Not even the solitude, really. It’s the way everything slows down just enough for me to remember who I am when I’m not performing, not explaining, not trying.
Walking back down, I didn’t feel like I had discovered anything new. I just felt lighter. Like I’d taken a breath I didn’t know I was holding. These little escapes don’t fix anything, but they clear the fog a bit. They remind me that I don’t always need to go far to come back to myself. Sometimes, a short walk, a stretch of green hills, and a quiet valley between two busy cities is enough.
All photographs and content used in this post are my own. Therefore, they have been used under my permission and are my property.
