The sound of distant traffic and the soft hum of conversation floated through the open window of my small Parisian apartment. I sat at the edge of my bed, staring at the old, second-hand keyboard propped up against the wall. It wasn’t a grand piano, but it was mine, and it represented every ounce of hope and determination I had. My name is Sofia. I’m 18 years old, and I’ve lived in Paris for almost a year now. Originally, I’m from a small town in Moldova, where life moved at a slower pace, and the dreams seemed smaller. Moving to Paris was not an easy decision, but my mother, who works as a cleaning lady at a hotel here, believed in the opportunities this city could offer. Paris. The City of Light. It’s a place of endless possibilities, but also relentless challenges. My days are a whirlwind of classes, part-time work, and stolen moments with my keyboard. Last week, I started a part-time job at a Thai massage salon in the city center. The work is tiring, but the extra cash I earn goes straight into my savings for piano classes. Every time I close my eyes, I can almost hear the sound of a grand piano, feel the keys under my fingers, and lose myself in the music. It’s a dream that keeps me going, even when my feet ache after a long shift, or when the weight of the city’s indifference feels too heavy to bear. Tonight, after my shift at the massage salon, I’ll come home and sit at my keyboard. I’ll play the few songs I’ve taught myself from online videos, each note a step closer to my dream. One day, I’ll play for real. One day, I’ll make my mother proud, and maybe even buy her a ticket back to Moldova, where she can rest and see the fruits of her labor. For now, I take it one day at a time, balancing my studies, my work, and my passion. Because in this city, if you can dream it, you can achieve it. And my dream? It’s just beginning.