I left at night.

There’s something about night flights that feels… cleaner. Like slipping between worlds without being seen. One moment you’re somewhere, and the next you’re not — suspended in that quiet in-between.

I flew from Indonesia into the dark, towards Far North Queensland — one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been, though I didn’t know that yet.

What I did know was that this wasn’t just a trip. It had been months of quiet anticipation, and yet somehow it still felt like a last-minute, life-changing decision. The kind that doesn’t fully make sense on paper, but feels undeniable in the soul.

Bali had been my home for so long. Almost ten years. Ten years of living, learning, and growing — a complete metamorphosis from being a girl into early womanhood.

It could have remained my home. Honestly, it probably would have, if things around me hadn’t shifted so drastically. The vast invasion of influencers and investors and the overwhelmingly soulless hype Bali had become.

But it was also me, something inside me started nudging — no, pushing — me towards something new. And maybe more truthfully: if my curious heart hadn’t started beating just a tiny bit faster, again.

I was ready.

Not in a loud, declared way. But in a quiet, settled knowing. Like something had completed itself.

The freedom of being ‘uncaged’ comes with the price of extreme self-reliance. And an invitation to make every mistake humanly possible. And God knows; I did.

No one told me what I could or couldn’t do. There was no structure, no example, no roadmap. Trial, error, thinking, feeling, adjusting. No 9 to 5 to keep you and your finances in a linear, safe structure. No angel investors or governmental funds, no blending in.

Perfect. Because I never wanted those things anyway.

I was there, and I did it my way.

Maybe the most beautiful moments weren’t the “big” ones — but the ones that happened ever so naturally.

Like riding my bike through unfamiliar parts of the island, getting lost on purpose, Indonesian music in my ears that I had slowly learned to interpreted, not just emotionally but linguistically too.

There’s something about understanding a language that used to be foreign, and suddenly you can hear. It changes the world around you.

Those bright days, those dark nights, those rides, turning inspiration into creation, learning my crafts and then leaving my marks; my essence in this world in a small, but very real way… I think those were the real gold for me.

And then… Australia.

It became clear, almost suddenly: this is next. Which also meant:

Moving continents for the third time in one year.

Packing up again. Going somewhere I knew no one. Without a clear plan. Not easy.

But I wasn’t empty-handed. I brought my experiences, skills and courage with me. And somehow, for some reason, I landed exactly where I needed to be.

But that’s for another time. A story I’m now living.

What I can say is this:

When I left the island and flew into the starry night towards Australia, I felt something very sharp and very present.

The past felt like a book I had just closed. Not slowly — but with a quiet, decisive thud. A chapter complete.

The future? It was too new, too untouched, too undefined to even imagine properly. A whole new continent, a whole new rhythm. There was nothing to hold onto yet.

So all that existed — really — was the now.

Up there, in the dark, surrounded by stars. Somehow, songs I had written over the years began to echo within me — not just fragments, but complete. Reminding me that something had come full circle, that I had done what I came there to do:

Capturing the songs and paintings only I could create, there, in Bali. In the jungly joglo I had lived in for so long, and in Canggu, close to the ocean, back when it was still just a small surfer’s town.

And then we landed.

So this is Australia. 

I remember looking out and seeing tropical trees, wide roads, everything somehow feels… spacious. Ordered. Calm. Fresh. There was a softness in the air, but also a sense of structure. It felt different. Grounded. Peaceful in the early, early morning.

And then I remembered that same feeling I had when I first landed in Bali, one decade ago.

Though I’ve never been here before, somehow this feels like home…