I have realised now, looking back, it was divinity that brought me back here.

There is something about it that lingers, something that tugs at the heart even after leaving, something that feels like it belongs to those who take the time to listen.

Further down the coast, the chaos softened. The islands off Langkawi unraveled in shades of emerald and indigo, where the water met the sky in an embrace so seamless it felt like stepping into another dimension.

But my heart is stubborn like that. It sees the inevitable, yet when the moment arrives, it fights to stay.

Kind-hearted humans, their warmth as vast as the landscapes that surrounded us. Pristine, untouched beauty stretched across rivers and snow-capped peaks, over mountains that swallowed the sky, across glacial lakes so clear they reflected the world back at you.

The city pulses with a strange, structured rhythm: clean, bright, and endlessly alive. Streets hum with energy, and it only takes one good downpour—sudden and unapologetic—to understand the charm in its extremes.

Just as I arrived, I left—the boat slicing through the morning stillness, the plane lifting off over a scattering of cerulean islands, another plane soaring higher until it all faded below me, the blues dissolving into the clouds.