Europe has become a map tattooed on my memory—France with its midnight balconies and cheap red wine, Italy with hands that talk louder than voices, Spain where I danced until my feet blistered, Greece where the sea washed pieces of my sadness away. I love wandering narrow streets alone, letting the city choose the story for me. In Lisbon I cried over a song, in Prague I kissed a stranger, in Paris I felt both lonely and infinite at the same time. I travel to feel more than I can handle, to collect emotions like souvenirs. One day I want to see the whole world, but Europe will always be my long, complicated love. If you want to fuel my next destination, tip me—every coin becomes a mile.