(never) turning back

I had heard of Argentina for years, of its tumultuous history, its passionate people, how the helado is the best but its government is the worst, until the words in my head were a tangle of English and Spanish and I had a ticket booked and a schedule that took me from Buenos Aires to Mar del Plata (a tourist city by the sea) with my arts ministry. My heart was opened and my mind was baffled by the sharp dividing line between poverty and wealth, between being loved and being left, and I grappled to fathom a culture so different from my own.

my hidden quiet

I have lived in this house for over a year now, longer than any house since I "came of age," and the corners of it have become so much a home that I cannot even fathom returning to the country of my birth and having to let go of my favourite place to rest my bones.

fresh breaths

In the exact moment that I needed a fresh breath, an escape, my best friend's parents claimed me as their own and whisked me away to a city stuck in time, streets I'd read about, a day without having to face the pain.

(Bath, UK, and London, England)

on the way

I feel the most free when I'm between places. I can always breathe more easily when I travel.

I traveled a little bit over Christmas break.