2 YEARS LATER

                                     Day 27 – My Diary

I just arrived in Sheikh yesterday. The air here is sharp, crisp, and filled with a kind of quiet that I’m not used to. It’s cold—colder than I expected—and last night, the sound of rain tapping against the roof felt foreign to me. 

Berbera, where I came from, was scorching hot, the kind of heat that settles into your bones and never lets go. In all my time there, I never saw rain, not even once.

As I stepped off the bus, the chill hit me instantly. My breath fogged in the air, a sight I had never really seen before. I pulled my jacket closer, adjusting to the new reality. The roads here feel different, narrower, winding through hills instead of stretching endlessly under a relentless sun. 

The people walk at a slower pace, their voices softer, their greetings warmer.

As soon as I arrived I headed to my favourite place, a place where I used to go when I feel burden in life, a place where I used to talk to my self! 

"Beeraha" was my favourite spot when it comes to choosing a place to relax.

Last night, I struggled to sleep. Not because of noise, but because of the silence. In Berbera, there was always sound—the hum of the city, the distant crash of waves, the occasional roar of a passing truck. Here, the quiet is deep, almost overwhelming, broken only by the occasional howl of the wind and the rhythmic patter of rain.

This morning, I woke up to a mist-covered town. The sky looked heavy, like it was carrying secrets it wasn’t ready to share. I stepped outside, letting the cold seep in, breathing in the fresh mountain air. It’s different, but not in a bad way—just unfamiliar.

I don’t know how long I’ll be here, but I do know one thing: Sheikh is nothing like Berbera. And maybe that’s exactly what I needed.