four hours in d.c., or why i love the lovely country of venezuela;

i usually reserve some of my more odd life stories for dinner time talks with my mom. or non-fiction pieces for class, wherein most of my classmates think i am either lying/the weirdest person they’ve ever met/ a curious mixture of the two. so this is my disclaimer: i don’t know how this stuff happens […]

{berets and bongos} 72;

“i’m happiest when most away i can bear my soul from its home of clay on a windy night when the moon is bright and the eye can wander through worlds of light— when i am not and none beside— nor earth nor sea nor cloudless sky— but only spirit wandering wide through infinite immensity.” […]