vacation

only 4 days
then I get some rest
living in the past
but still dreaming of the best

only 4 days
then I will imagine
who I could be
flying on a dragon

only 4 days
then I can scream
but I'm not my own team
cause demons don't want to be seen
and mine want to be so mean
trying to hide them from the stream

only 4 days
and I don't want to lose
don’t want to bruise

Peeing's easy
When I traavel,
For five days to a week.
I can piddle
While you fiddle
Dancing down the street.

But things do change
When I roam
For five days to a week.
Suffice to say
On those days
My bowels work best
At home.

jericoacoara, brasil

i used to think paradise was loud.
grand.
someplace with fireworks or a sign that said you’ve arrived.
but here
paradise whispers.
it hums like wind over dunes and the hush of tides kissing mangroves.

it starts slow:
bare feet on red-dust roads,
a lime cut open for caipirinha,
salt tangled in your hair
before you’ve even unpacked.

pedra furada stands like a portal
not just a rock, but a wound the sea never stopped carving.
you walk there at low tide,
thinking of all the things erosion teaches us about time,
and how light, at the right angle, makes absence look sacred.

at sunset, the many locals climb the dune like pilgrims.
all of us waiting,
as if watching the sun slip beneath the ocean
might give us permission to let go of something, too.
and when it disappears, we clap.
not for the sun, but for ourselves.
for choosing this place. for arriving.

in lagoa do paraíso,
you swing in a hammock half-submerged,
water licking your skin like a secret.
you forget your name for a while.
only remember the temperature of turquoise
and the ache of muscles finally unclenched.

there’s a bent tree they call preguiça: lazy.
but it’s not lazy. it’s free.
it grew toward the wind and stayed there.

god, maybe that’s what we’re doing too.

capoeira beats call you to the beach at dusk,
bodies moving like poetry before it’s written.
then forró after dark,
barefoot spins under fairy lights,
strangers holding each other like old friends
or future stories.

in the mangroves of guriú,
you glide silently between roots that braid water to earth.
they say seahorses live here, invisible to the rushed eye.
maybe you do too,
the version of you that still believes in quiet magic.

there’s a night when the stars are too many to name.
you lie on wet sand,
and the sky reflects itself around you
like the universe is closing in
just to hear your breath.
and maybe it does.
you make a wish on a bird instead of a star.
you don’t know why,
you just do.

and out of nowhere,
someone hands you a board.
you fly down a dune laughing.
you dance.
you say nothing for hours.
you say everything with a glance.
you remember who you are
before the rush and alarms and musts.

you begin to wonder:
what if the way out wasn’t loud at all?
what if escape looked like sunburned shoulders,
wind chapped lips,
and the sweet, slow ache of coming home to yourself?

so tell me,
how’s the escape plan coming along?
because this map drawn in sand and silence?
it looks a lot like freedom.

m.

I jumped the gun.
Made the playlist.
Planned the vacation.
Did the work.

Might as well go alone.

This wisdom should be on the streets
My wisdom should be on the streets
My wisdom should be on the walls
These words deserve to be seen
This knowledge should not be ignored.
These skies aren't just falling
They're spreading wide apart
To let us all inside
Into the universe's heart
The ocean is the place
To be and sea is paradise
Whenever hearts are aching
The water calms the mind

Where the sun sets brighten the landscape
New ideas take a different shape
And as the moon smiles down on us
We're simply here on our soul vacation
The wind is howling-helping us
To sail across the ocean-atmosphere
Where far is close
And the horizon's near
We eat and drink
We dream, we film
We sing in silence to ourselves
We're one with beautiful sun rays

As I am letting go,
Floating, finding words,
Coming from the heart
Of this country's evening ride
We're simply carrying on
In waves of love
It has so many faces
As well as phases
Always enough
For all of us
If we look closer
And we trust.

Travel locations with architectural marvels are always a traveler's delight,
Each is unique in its own way & the list is long enough with no end in sight,
Rating comparisons become inevitable as we witness more during our travels,
But that would be sheer travesty of justice, as each marvel has few parallels

Europe, unsurprisingly, is at the top of the bucket list for most travel lovers,
It is toast to a multitude of exotic locations, if one were to go by numbers,
Italy is home to some of the world's famous UNESCO World Heritage sites,
Welcome to the Leaning Tower of Pisa, whose popularity has scaled great heights

Pisa, a city in Italy is a short drive from Florence - capital city of Tuscany region,
Initially an important Italian seaport, Pisa's growth thro' trade stands to reason,
Its involvement in periodic military conflicts enabled Pisa to become affluent,
Pisans conveyed their importance through construction of religious monuments

The Tower of Pisa is one of the four buildings that constitutes the cathedral complex,
It is a freestanding bell tower and considered the piazza's crowning glory in the annexe,
Located on the city's main "Miracles Square", it differs from most medieval architecture,
It is symbolic of Italian architectural expertise at its best, with just cause for conjecture

The complex was meant to display treasures brought back from Sicily by adventurers,
The bell tower was configured to be the tallest of its age - a landmark for all travelers,
The name Pisa reportedly originates from the Greek word for "marshy land",
Failure to factor subsoil condition, resulted in construction not going as planned

Provision of a shallow and heavy foundation was apparently a gross oversight,
That the construction would be inevitably doomed, was obvious in hindsight,
The tower began to sink to one side while the second storey was being built,
Adding taller columns and arches to the south side, did little to offset the tilt

By the fourth storey, disparity in the arches to restore balance was to no avail,
Attempts to restore centre of gravity from the third storey added to the travails,
Construction continued to the full eight storeys, with the tilt still in place,
That the tower took 200 years to build and is still standing, is the saving grace!

Visitors can climb to the top of the tower, involving a steep climb of 251 steps,
Climbing the tilted building is heady excitement that requires no mental preps,
The tower has seven bells for divine timekeeping - one for each musical note,
Prudently calling it a miracle of medieval engineering, is a worthy point to note

The tower being one of Italy's signature sights should be of little surprise to one and all,
Imagine the awe of looking at a tilted 58 metre-high tower, appearing to be in free fall,
Leaning a startling 3.9 degrees off the vertical, as if in defiance of all geometrical odds,
The Leaning Tower of Pisa truly lives up to it's name, as if ordained by the gods

The Leaning Tower of Pisa's extraordinary tilt makes it an authentic miracle of statics,
You tend to keep looking back at the tower as you saunter, to savor the imagery magic,
And grapple with a bunch of baffling explanations, wondering how the tower defies gravity,
Whilst shaking the head in disbelief & finally nodding, that the visual treat is indeed a rarity!

Canyons always evoke a sense of picturesque excitement of nature,
Slot canyons elevate the thrill several notches by their sheer stature,
They are found in many parts of the world in areas with low rainfall,
Often described as long narrow drainageways, with sheer rock walls

Rock walls are typically eroded into sandstone or other sedimentary rock,
Depth-to-width ratios increasing even ten-fold should come as no shock,
Slot canyons can be subject to flash flooding - a typical characteristic,
Unique soil compositions, differing from the drier uplands, are realistic

Nature's wondrous creation can be seen in the Upper Antelope Canyon,
Water and time have eroded the rock, turning it into a slot canyon,
The transition to formation of smooth flowing rock is incredible,
As if nature willed the breathtaking interior to be truly impeccable

Arizona's Antelope Canyon was formed over time by erosion of red sandstone,
Centuries of flash flooding and intermittent wind resulted in this keystone,
The narrow passageway leads several hundred feet away from the opening,
The gorgeous photogenic sloping of the rocks is a sight worth mentioning

In local lingo, the Navajos call this "the place where water runs through rocks",
Come monsoon, rainwater gushes into the narrow passageways, round the clock,
The passageways are eroded over time making the corridors get more deeper,
Hard rock edges smoothen with characteristic flowing shapes, that look sleeker

A stark feature is the shafts of sunlight radiating down from the canyon top,
The effect is most pronounced during summer, with action almost nonstop,
The light shafts illuminate pink, orange and gold patterns on the canyon walls,
Winter colors are a tad more muted, but still a sight for visitors to enthrall

It's a common sight to see visitors jostling for vantage points for photoshoots,
Tourist guides revel in clicking group photos with free advertising to boot,
Every turn and steps ahead provide an unique exhilarating experience,
Exclamations of awe and wonder that fill the air, befit the ambience

As the 4x4 AWD vehicle drives you back at the end of the slot canyon visit,
Rapturous memorable visuals of the stunning canyon interior are hard to desist,
Witnessing one of nature's marvels leaves an euphoric feeling of being perennial,
Poetic encomium would do little justice to the canyon's beauty, that feels surreal

Our burdens are lifted—it’s spring break, after all.

Though ocean breezes, surf sounds, the smell of sunblock,
fresh tans and bottomless margaritas at the beach can be healing,
we decided to vacation on campus and find joy in small, everyday things.

Yesterday, we went to the farmer’s market, where one coffee vendor was making real cappuccinos and another was baking fresh breakfast pizzas. The combination reminded me of the 'Antico Forno Roscioli' caffe, near Campo de' Fiori, in Rome.

Then we hit the gym pool, climbed a rock wall (slowly) and played racquetball (rather poorly). We tried a dance & fitness class too—I thought I was in shape but ugg, it was hard to keep up. Peter (my 27-year-old bf) practically collapsed, but maybe he was angling for mouth-2-mouth.

Straight brag: Peter and I are getting new laptops today—MacBook Air M4s—mine’s baby blue, his is silver. So today seems like Christmas.
I don’t know if you people have computers, or use the Internet, but if you do, you’ll get it. I don’t know exactly when it’ll arrive, of course, so I’m pacing our suite.

I’ve always loved tech. My brother started teaching me about computers when I was 10—you know—hard drives, logic boards, power supplies, all of it. I remember it taking about two days to set one up and move all of the data. Today all I’ll have to do is set the new computer next to the old one and click migrate.

You gotta doff your hat to the tech wizards that came up with that, but the hours spent doing it the old way were fun.
“Something’s lost yet something's gained” - I think Joni Mitchell sang that.
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Songs for this:
Am I the Same Girl? by Swing Out Sister
Mountain or a Molehill by Kris Berry
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our cast: A reader once asked, “Who are these people?” (a solid question) So now I do a cast list:

Peter, (My bf), is a bearded, 27-year-old from the sage hills of Malibu, California. He’s 6’1, too thin, his jet-black hair is perpetually uncombed and his skin is pale from over exposure to fluorescent lighting. He earned his PhD in Applied Physics last year and now he works for CERN in Geneva. He’s smart, quiet, awkward and he can be too serious. I’m unreasonably cRaZy about this guy.

Your author, a simple, multinational, upper-crust, trust-fund baby from Athens, Georgia who's also a molecular biophysics and biochemistry major (pre-med).