My home still stands, but I cannot deny the snakes. They are no longer in the shadows they have crawled onto the walls, reached the windows, and coiled around my home, around my country. I know this. I have seen it. And it is this knowing that has exhausted me. Sometimes I close my eyes not out of ignorance, but to catch a breath from the weight of this truth. In the darkness behind my eyelids, I build a home that is still safe, a sky that is still blue, and birds that still dare to fly. But this dream is not escape it is a brief pause, so I do not break. Because when I open my eyes, the snakes are still there. The fire still burns beyond the window. And this time, I know that closing my eyes will not save anything. There is fear. There is exhaustion. But there is also a choice to lose myself in the dream, or, with all my trembling, remain the owner of this home.