The Shape of an Unshaped Self: The True Essence of Exile

One day, I took my ukulele on a journey.

The purpose was self-exile—

though to be honest, I'm not quite sure what exile truly means.

Still, I walked on.

I began within the single square meter of my sight—

a frame both physical and imagined.

Step by step, I multiplied this space,

letting my view stretch and unfold,

like a cartographer patiently sketching

a map of unfamiliar lands.

Along the way, fragments of stories emerged—

a breeze that whispered forgotten songs,

footsteps mingling with distant laughter,

moments suspended between time and place.

The frames of my sight shifted as I moved,

and the familiar world inside my mind quietly expanded,

stretching outward into new dimensions.

You might think it's the world that changes—

and in a way, it does.

But what transforms the most is actually you.

Each step carries you from the known to the unknown,

from the self to the selflessness.

So in my exile journal,

every subject—“I”—

has been cut out, hollowed from the page—

a literal empty frame.

Its shape echoes the one square meter I see in my vision—

a window of sight, shifting as I move.

As others read my journal,

those frames change with their gaze,

just as I change—

just as I am the world that is changing.

Within these pages lie stories—

not fixed or final,

but moments caught in transition,

the living trace of a journey both outward and within.

"This image comes from one of my journal entries. The rest remains private, but I wanted to offer this small window into the process."