I should be working, but I'm restless, so I'm going to take a little mind-walk, a few laps around my already fading memories of the last...

It's one of those nights where I've done a little bit of everything--watching, reading, writing, snacking--but it all still feels...

On the way back from getting dumplings and mojitos, Austin said everyone's driving like crazy, and I said it's because of the moon, and...

I’m sitting in Brenna’s kitchen, Parisian café music playing from the Alexa behind me. Everyone is still asleep; I slept longer than I...

I pass Oma's neighbor today in the stairwell. I didn't realize she ever left her apartment without medical transport, but there she was,...

I want to write, because it's been one of those weeks where a million things happened, like candy tumbling from broken papier-mâché, and...

I've been waking before 7 am. The birds sing through the open bathroom window, the fresh morning air tumbles in. I look forward to each...

Sunday The day started with a flapping shoe: the only shoes Austin brought to Paris--a vintage pair of fur-lined boots from my Opa--were...

Friday Austin and I arrived in Paris on a Friday afternoon and hopped on a mostly empty coach bus to take us to our train station. The...

For months I didn’t feel like writing, but time always rebalances me, encourages me to check back in. I was convinced I’d lose all the...