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January. Moving to Barcelona. Sitting with the discomfort of that; finding my way to the water. Photographing street art and all the palm trees. Febuary. Cutting my hair short; the unexpected lightness. Joining a running club; that feeling of companionship that comes with meeting people that are good, and warm, and inspire you to push further. March. Working long hours and growing. Eating my body weight in Patatas Bravas that are best from the dingy little bar on the corner before home. April. The first barbecues of the season; beers and friends and long, drowsy afternoons. Running my first race and the absolute, overwhelming joy of it.


May. L. visiting for a handful of days and getting drunk on Cava. Hiking up Montserrat together and falling breath-takingly in love with the mountain. Watching Rupi Kaur perform during Barcelona’s poetry festival. The first swim in the Mediterranean, ever. June. Writing again. Getting sun burnt but like, really. Eating all the cinnamon rolls at DemasiéJuly. Loosing myself in the meandering wild gardens of Hortha and glimpsing a wild boar. Leaving Barcelona. Cuddling up with a tiny, brand new kitten. August. Surfing for the first time in years and failing admirably. Chasing sunsets. The growing familiarity of my Summer job – the laughter, the private jokes. Hot pizza on long summer nights.


September. Moving back to Paris, to the street covered in hearts, and to the best roommate. Drinking in the last of the warmth. Quietly turning twenty-three, and feeling loved. October. Committing to becoming vegetarian. The growing feeling that Paris, this time around, is finally becoming a home. Having my Mama around for a handful of days. Halloween shenanigans with C. and L., an extra tequila shot when the adults aren’t looking. November. Leaning into new friendships; head first, heart vulnerable and happy. Learning to ask for hugs. Flying to Birmingham to visit S. and feeling so damned grateful for her friendship. Reveling in the city’s color and architecture, hopping on a bus to Manchester, and drinking all of the cider. December. Three days in Paris with my little sister that turn into four when her train is unexpectedly cancelled. Eating poutine that tastes even better because the restaurant is sold out and the Chef treats us to it. Hand embroidering seven grey shirts as Christmas gifts. Drinking champagne and walking by the water – sand in my Air Forces and special pockets of time with my parents. Flying to Vancouver.


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