"Blogging isn't journalism, it's graffiti with punctuation."

>my body is a boat, and you are travelling in me

> Countdown to christine’s balkan extravaganza = Time!

today i flew to kiev, ukraine.

no one speaks english, the music ballads ring out “spa-ceee-bah” and old men in marlon brando hats smoke thin cigars with knarled hands. the façades of centurion structures boast women with fruit and flowers. but everyone here eats meat and chugs tuborg.

taxis. and the mafia.

pool tables. and the poetry.

cyrillic like a tattoo.

i had a panic attack on the flight. i cried and cried and cried, even though i wasn’t upset in the slightest. then by body heat rose, although my skin was cold to the touch. sweating through chills. shortness of breath. hit my head on the window during touch down.

cried and cried through passport control.

but i wasn’t sad at all…

here begins another backpacking trip that will undoubtably teach me more about myself than any other trip i’ve taken. i anxiously wait for places like kosovo, sarajevo, bucharest, and istanbul to infect me like a pathogen.

my body is a boat, and you are travelling in me.

ironically, today one of my travel articles is getting published. what a great way to send me off on my journey. you can read my article on Nice, France (and enjoy the photo which i also took, you can see my hand in the shot) here on the NOW Magazine website, or if you live in toronto, pick up a copy!

yesterday, when i rolled over, there was paul. he kissed me in the morning. when i reached for his armpit, his hands shot up and grabbed my wrists. we fought like that as the sheets tangled. so i leaned down and blew a raspberry on his belly. then another. and another.

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