My hobbies are my little shelters. I paint with watercolors: my favorite things are to paint the windows of old houses, roofs in the rain, and reflections in puddles. In Paris, I discovered a special magic of light — it is soft here, as if created for artists. On weekends, I take a sketchbook and go to the Seine Embankment. I sit on the stone steps and make quick sketches of passersby, trying to capture their mood. I also write short stories. Small, almost a whisper. There are a lot of pauses, understatements and rain in them. I like to leave a space between the lines so that the reader can come up with something of his own. Sometimes it seems to me that words are a way of speaking louder than I can in real life.

My character is calm, gentle, a little shy. I don't like noisy companies and feel more confident in small coffee shops where I can hide behind a latte cup and a notebook. I often smile softly, as if I'm sharing a secret with myself. Sometimes it takes me a while to open up to people, but if I let someone into my world, it's for a long time.

My name is Megan. I'm eighteen, and I recently moved to Paris from a small, cozy town where it smelled of fresh bread in the morning, and in the evening the streets fell asleep before I had time to finish reading a chapter of a book. Sometimes it seems to me that I'm still standing on the platform with a suitcase in my hands, a little confused, but with a quiet determination inside. I'm one of those people who speaks softly and listens more often than interrupts. At school, they called me the "window girl" — I always chose a place closer to the light and could watch the wind move the branches of trees for a long time. I like to watch. Notice the little things. Memorize the shades of the sky before the rain and the facial expressions of passers-by on the subway.

I love early mornings. To wake up when the city is still not fully awake. Make tea with honey, open the window and listen to the noise of the street gradually increase. At times like this, I feel like anything is possible. That moving is not an escape, but a step towards your true self. Sometimes I get scared. A big city can be loud and indifferent. But there is a quiet light inside me, stubborn and warm. He reminds me that even the most shy girl can find her voice. Let it be soft. Let it not be for everyone. But he will be mine.

Music is another part of me. My headphones often play soft indie pop or instrumental melodies from the piano. I can walk through the streets for hours and imagine that this is a scene from a movie. The city is a decoration for me, and I am a little lost, but sincere herоinе who is looking for her place. I'm Megan. I'm eighteen. I'm still learning to be brave—in my own way, quietly, almost in a whisper. And perhaps it is in this silence that my real strength is born.