The Compass

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“Now, voyager, sail thou fort to seek and find.”

-Walt Whitman

He sat at the desk in the study, scrutinizing the instrument in his hands. As a child, he used to sneak in here to play with his father’s instruments when he was away. Of all the instruments, this weathered compass had always fascinated him the most.

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Who You Are

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If someone were to look at my life through a window, I wonder what they would see. If they’ve been following me on Instagram, they’d probably see a surfer chick, a big smile on her tanned face, eyes twinkling, holding a surfboard taller than her. In the background, white sand and the playful blue sea of Costa da Caparica.

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The Camera

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The camera

 

As I was unpacking my bags in the new apartment in Germany, I came across the notebook in which I write all my poems. I hadn’t touched that one in quite some time, not even to read my mostly teenage angst-inspired, and sometimes surprisingly grown-up poems. This thought gave me pause; what had I written the last time I was here?

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Between the pages

“Between the pages of a book

is a lovely place to be.”

– Anonymous

It’s strange how I’ve never written anything, anywhere, about books, considering that I practically devour them in a matter of a few hours, at one go. I can never decide what is closer to my heart—books or travel. They keep exchanging places and taking the Numero Uno spot turn by turn. I shouldn’t be surprised though; after all, aren’t books a way of travelling to a different place too?

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