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After two months, I returned to the U.S., showing not joy or sorrow, for I felt neither.
I don’t trust that the sky will wax dark or that day will become night, but I’m not fearful either way. Here, I can believe in perpetuity.
Sometimes, being abroad isn’t so much about experiencing new things. It’s about being daring enough to do all the things that you didn’t let yourself do when you were at home.
Who knew that the simplest of cultural differences would give me so much trouble?
Brazil, I’ve got some griping to do, and you’re the arbitrary target.
I spent over an hour with the Impressionist paintings. And when I was done, I left the world of bright villages for the rain-drenched city streets.
The town is spectacular, and yet it is the company that makes the trip truly memorable.
I’m not the type to drop the H-bomb. D.C.-bombs, on the other hand, rain down from my lips almost daily.
I am fairly certain that you can see the entire world here in just your morning commute.