MonaZ

She was walking toward her favourite bookstore – the only and largest one in the town she called home.

As often happened, she wandered just as deeply within herself.

Watching the people pass by, a question began to take shape.

What world of thought are they wandering through?

Are they happy?

Or are they struggling beneath something unseen?

They seemed at ease.

But was that ease real, or carefully held together?

She knew it might sound strange to wonder this way.

In Italian, they say, Non sono affari suoi – it’s none of your business.

And yet, she could not help herself.

A person can carry a cheerful expression so effortlessly that others begin to believe happiness comes easily to them.

Yet behind every composed face lies a story, hidden within invisible walls.

Struggles are rarely displayed.

They are folded into routines, softened by polite smiles.

And so, most things remain unspoken.

The Sharing Trap

She had often been entrusted with the stories of others – their confessions, their hidden thoughts.

It made her wonder:

Does sharing truly make one feel lighter?

Perhaps.

But only in the right hands.

Because when she began to trust,

when she opened her own story,

it was turned into a weapon against her.

Understanding, she realized, was not as common as expression.

To speak is easy.

To be understood is something else entirely.

The Place of Resilience

The questions did not leave her.

They followed her persistently,

until they arrived with her in another part of the world.

It was her first visit to a place she would later call
Luogo di resilienza – the Place of Resilience.

– MonaZ –

What struck her first was not the landscape or the architecture,

but the people.

Their presence was gentle.

Their manners were calm, deliberate, and almost effortless.

A kindness so natural it seemed unforced.

She was reminded of something she had once read at her favourite bookstore, the idea of a culture of behaviour,

that people wear different versions of themselves depending on time, place, and circumstance.

And here, she began to understand it.

Even if it was a mask,

it required effort to wear it well.

Soft-mannered behaviour, she realized, was not weakness.

It was a chosen calmness,

even when life within might feel otherwise.

The Mask of Life

Life, she knew, rarely aligns perfectly with what one loves.

More often, it asks for endurance.

And again, the question returned.

Are they truly happy?

She did not know.

But she observed this:

No matter what their day carried,

no matter what remained unseen beneath the surface,

they met others with patience.

With respect.

No frustration slipped through.

No hesitation appeared when help was needed.

Their composure was never loud.

It was almost invisible.

And in that observation, something shifted within her.

Perhaps it was not merely a mask people wore.

Perhaps it was something else entirely,

a responsibility.

A conscious decision about how one meets the world.

Even in the presence of inner turmoil,

they chose grace.

And that, she realized, was a form of strength.

She had rarely seen it before.

And perhaps, she thought,

she was no different.

She, too, had smiled through difficult days.

She, too, had carried conversations no one else could hear.

She wondered:

Was the mask hiding who they were,

or revealing who they chose to be?

Or perhaps,

the mask was never meant to hide them at all.

Perhaps it revealed the person they chose to become,

despite everything life had asked them to carry.

To be continued…