Reflections

July 25, 2014

I remember sitting in a dusty attic in Bristol, staring at a travel brochure pinned to the wall. I was twelve, and...

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July 25, 2014

How much of our identity is inherited, and how much is merely a reflection of the hands that hold us? We often...

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July 24, 2014

I remember sitting on a bench in the Jardin du Luxembourg, watching an old man try to read a newspaper while the...

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