Luck.

When the clock struck 12 on New Year's Eve in Montmartre, Paris, there were no fireworks, no confetti, or fancy drinks. But I had everything to be grateful for. And to think, just a year ago, I was wondering whether this life of meandering around Europe would be worth pursuing at all. And the truth…

The Hostel Dweller

The hostel dweller climbs up and down creaky staircases and bedsDrinks instant coffeeAnd watches people come and go The hostel dweller sleeps in a room with people from all over the world but doesn’t bother to ask where are they from anymore  The hostel dweller is used to shower flip flops and travel sized everythingincluding connections The hostel dweller doesn’t…

My Mother’s Hands

My mother’s hands Are papery thin How glorious and beautiful Her veins running through them like the Nile river She tries to hide them Saying they reveal too much Yet the only thing I see Are years of tireless nights in every crack And selfless servitude in every fold The next time I hold them…