Lifelog
Thirties
Meanwhile, Human
The Hidden Now
#0k
While We Wait For Sunrise
Poetry
Substack
ContacT
During my high school exchange program in Oregon in 2011–2012, I wrote my host family one letter a month. I left them all in a box for them to open after I was gone.
I loved this family and this new life so much that my entire year was tinted with melancholy from the start. I knew all of these experiences had an expiration date, and that once I left, nothing would ever be quite the same again. I think writing the letters was a way for me to stay present in something I was already mourning the loss of.
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