Introduction

Introduction (English Version)

April 4th, 2026 — Amsterdam

I would say that this, apparently, has not been my first time writing—yet it is my first time truly WRITING. My first time writing a book? No. My first time writing with a personally innovative style? I don’t think so. Perhaps I am entering a different genre. Perhaps something more romantic? Dramatic? Cold? Not quite.

After writing a few times in the past, it has been a while, and now I feel the need to begin again. To begin something new—something that pleases me. Something that makes me want to write until the end. The end? But what end? I am not saying there might not be one. I am saying there will be one. The end? But what kind of end? I am referring to the kind that may or may not truly end.

April 4th, 2026. Who said the story ends here? Perhaps it doesn’t. Perhaps it continues. But then again—what story? Whose story? After several writing experiences, I realized that among all the personalities I have written before, I am not there. Not that my story stands out, or that it must be told. Perhaps it doesn’t have to be told. Perhaps it has to be observed—told from another perspective. Narrated by the one who lived it.

Now, reflecting on it, I have come to realize that if this is a romance, then I am both the protagonist and the narrator. The question is: is this a romantic romance? I wouldn’t say “romantic.” Not that it isn’t—but it is a bad romance. Not a bad book, but a bad love story. Not bad because it is sad, but because it is incoherent.

In fact, as of April 4th, I would not even consider this a love story yet—perhaps a story of social tension. Love stories usually have an ending, whether happy or tragic. Ours does not seem to have ended. Not that a social story cannot end in tension. I could always forget it, and in that moment, it would end. Yet I imagine it may return, and later on, it may indeed become a love story. Or perhaps I am simply avoiding what we call “cliché romance.”

However, there is one important detail: if a love story only ends when it reaches its conclusion, then this book will only end when the social tension does first—whatever that may look like.

I feel like I have not made things entirely clear yet. Cahrrol is a 15-year-old European girl—studious and ordinary. “Ordinary,” as every introduction claims, yet by the end, perception always changes. Perhaps because I do not want to reveal too much just yet, or because I myself have not fully understood what has changed since the beginning of the story.

One thing you may have already noticed is that I do not specify the location where events take place. That is because, wherever it happens, names and places will not change the course of the story. Or perhaps I am simply avoiding the awkwardness of using original names. Still, this gives my creativity more freedom. One could assume that because my name sounds somewhat English, my nationality would follow—but my name may, or may not, be quite different: Lynnah Lynnd Cahrrol. We do not know.

Every mind should be free to imagine this story wherever it wishes. Except Amsterdam. You will understand later.

And yes… some things may seem strange, others less so. But all of them will be seen through my eyes.

Now, I will tell the seemingly ordinary—yet anything but ordinary—present story of Cahrrol, narrated by myself.

Cahrrol — The Things I Noticed — The In-Between Diaries

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