I wish to disappear for a while, and then again. I want a sumptuous, rosy weekend (expenses paid, expenses earned), destination: anywhere but here. A jaunty saunter through haunted streets, the full moon my compass to heaven. Bouquets every morning. It’s all mine. Nights feel like the call of the wild, a call to the… Continue reading II.
Arielle Tipa - writer / editor 