line from the unpublished Substack: He never has to live without me, not after the day he meets me. The ocean in Cancun is an impossible blue but life feels so colorless.1
In case I ever make this look easy, you should know that sometimes I start out writing something completely normal, promising even, and it devolves to the point that it is completely unsalvageable.
Travel is something that fuels my writing and gets entangled in it. It’s part of my purpose and part of my inspiration. Almost every time I go somewhere, I write about it - not about traveling, but the insight I have gained. The fun idea I had. Remember when I went to Cancun and then you read about sandcastles and me remembering my tiny hand holding my dad’s, thinking that as the tide receded we were actually moving backwards?
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