I had wanted to come here for a long time.

Maybe too long.

Malaga was warmer than expected. Not just the weather — the way people stayed outside, talked loudly, touched casually, occupied space without hesitation. Coming from winter, it felt almost unreal.

The beach is close, always. Even when you’re not there, you feel it in the air, in the pace, in how days stretch and lose structure. Time works differently when warmth isn’t temporary.

Malaga didn’t change anything for me.
It confirmed something.

That I need light.
That I need movement.
That cold cities shape habits you don’t notice until they loosen.