Journal entry from Monday, June 7:

Vaccinated today! Oh, and I did the maths. 500 days on the dot.

***

Five hundred and ten days ago, I told my mum I’d see her in six months. We hugged. She cried. I waved from the departure gate and hoisted my bag…

A blue bus and a blue van side by side on a street. The bus is a Budapest city bus.

This bus has never been on time as long as I’ve been catching it. It’s frustrating normally, and especially now when I’m late for work and my phone is about to die. An inconvenience teetering on top of the others. It’s already a bad day, and on good days I’m…

The dilapidated bar at El Chiringuito ran out of bottled beer a little before midnight. So when Aaron suggests going further along C. Cavour to find another bar, the four of us shrug and follow him.

A mixed crowd fills the pier on warm nights like tonight, buying beer until…

Essaouira is like flowers.

Imagine a place apart from chaos, and you might be getting close. A garden spilling out past its ancient walls to line the ocean promenade, thin brown water beckoning from far — only from far.

Essaouira is like flowers, in the spring from every direction a plethora of colour arrives in the town.

Outside Bab Sbaa in Orson Welles Garden, Moroccan Toadflax springs up pink-and-white next to pale…

I fall through the shimmer upside-down in to the space between the clouds and the void. There is nothing below me but the shimmer and I am hurtling up towards the clouds. As I pass through, I instinctively turn over. My brain and body have yet to register the fall…

Morgan

Writer in training. Practiced reader. Making the rest up as I go.

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