As It Was

Stepping through the familiar doorway, I flick on the light. The bulb in the floor lamp flickers from months of disuse before illuminating the space, exactly how it was when I left it. Looking around, the room appears fuzzy, and my hand instinctively reaches toward my face, checking for the plastic frame of my glasses.…

Advertisements

Morning Musings from an American Expat

I don't know when I became a morning person. Somewhere between the late nights of twenty-one and the overworked semesters of senior year at twenty-two I began to rise with the sun. There is comfort in the morning. Its cool breeze wraps around me as I pull my blanket tighter around my shoulders. My mug…