We go through life creating memories. Each memory is like a postcard we send to a future self. A postcard we’ll receive at some point later in life, turn it over and over in our hands, admiring the creases, the coffee stains and remembering. Something will trigger the delivery of that postcard. Maybe it will be a song that remembers when, or the smell of perfume that a certain person used to wear…
Overhearing a conversation in my hostel about a trip where nothing went according to plan. The last statement the storyteller made was “at least we can still laugh about it” …
My dreams of a fairy tale life started a long time ago, as I imagine did yours. To understand my dreams for a fairy tale life we need to rewind the tape a couple of fifteen year periods…
It’s 1984 and there is a little boy going through the life change that is first grade. The world just got a lot more complex for him than it was the year before. He’s still trying to figure out how girls play differently than boys, and thinks adults have god-like superpowers and can do anything they want.
If we’re going to be fairy tale heroes, if we’re going to make a difference, we need to understand the world we’re …
