two loose girls

"Do you think if I move here, the city would chew me up?" Mariya asked, as we emerged from the subway station.
"Of course not," I replied.
"How do you know?"

I thought back to meeting Mariya five years ago, on my first day studying abroad in Vienna. The semester flew by in adventurous days turned sleepless nights — some of those nights spent in strangers' homes, kebab shops and airport terminals as we backpacked through Europe. Then the semester ended, and we took turns visiting each other in NY and Florida. We met in Vegas to celebrate our friend's birthday, where she broke the news that she was moving to Australia. Two years later, I arrived in Sydney, grateful for a familiar hug after months of traveling alone. I left one week later, in awe of the vibrant life she'd built during her time alone.

I answered, "I have a weird analogy."
"Okay, go on."
"I heard that if you're ever in a motorbike crash, you're supposed to keep your body as loose as possible so that when you hit the ground, you don't break any bones. That's you, and that's why you'll always be fine in a new place. Because you're loose."
She laughed. "I love that. You're loose, too."