When it goes off balance
When the 21 gets stuck, the horizon narrows until it becomes a corridor.
You no longer leave your neighborhood, you turn down a job two hundred kilometers (about 125 miles) away, you cancel a trip the day before out of fear of flying, of vaccines, or of unfamiliar food. Comfort becomes a fortress: same couch, same series, same dishes, no plan beyond next month. Or the opposite: immense plans, a burning impatience, and total discouragement at the bank’s first refusal. Frustration then turns outward: you blame the government, the neighbors, foreigners, the whole system, and get carried away in family debates about politics or religion. Poorly managed loans, forgotten debts, and a rigid schedule that keeps you from taking time off complete the picture. These drifts often follow an ambitious project that fell through or a long period of forced immobility.
