A Hybrid of Nature: Growing Up Slowly

I was sixteen, going on twelve and twenty. I was loved by family and friends, and also had my share of teen angst–alone and lost in my own spirit, the way a bird thinks it’s ready to fly long before its wings have developed, and yet, the way the wind keeps calling her out anyway.…

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Weather Or Not

They say the first game of darts was imagined during the rain. A group of archers gathered indoors in a pub while waiting out the rain, and started aiming their short arrows at a point on the wall. Someone told me once I am a pluviophile: a lover of rain; someone who finds peace of…

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