I Ate the Whole World
I went to Paris and sat on the grass in a park outside the Tuileries. I ate cold salty ham and creamy brie on a baguette that tasted like bread is supposed to taste.
I went to Paris and sat on the grass in a park outside the Tuileries. I ate cold salty ham and creamy brie on a baguette that tasted like bread is supposed to taste.
I fill the silence with keyboard tapping, clicking on links that ask me to write a new cover letter, tweak my resume, and fill in my name, my education, my credentials.
I thought of Cairo, of the refugee kids I met, the illiterate mothers, the desperately poor. And I stopped her to ask earnestly, “Where do you find hope?”
They’re as excited about America as we are about Europe. We want to see the Alps; they want to see the Rocky Mountains. We want to take a train; they want to road trip.
I already am super weird about being on time, and a lot of my friends seem to view a deadline as more of a suggestion, rather than a hard fact.
It’s natural to want to fill your life. But in a life-long attempt to fill my soul with the “right” things, I have recently become fond of silence and stillness.
I got naked with a bunch of old men and tried to figure out how to wash my booty without insulting anyone, and that pretty much sums up my trip to Japan.
I think that is because our true home is with God, and we will never feel completely at home until we are with God. This is “heaven” to me—the ultimate homecoming.
By the end, I had to get out, or I was going to keel over from Uno-induced asphyxiation. I said my goodnights and stumbled off down the corridor.
In light of the current tensions and tragedies that have ripped through our country, Go Set a Watchman is startlingly relevant and “comes to us at exactly the right moment.”