Going back to a book is like returning to the cities we believe to be our own, but which, in reality, we've forgotten and been forgotten by.
Because no matter how much nicer other beaches seems to get, Redondo is always home.
This year has been quite a whirlwind, honestly. I went to three different continents! (For some that's nothing, but it's a lot for me!) I do sort of wish I had spent more time exploring Spain, because I was living there and there are sooo many "must-sees" that I never went to. I also wish …
You can count on me.
Some love letters as novelty wears off and culture shock sets in. (Inspired by that very good Netflix movie that you should definitely watch.)
Not with a bang but with a whimper, so to speak. And a strange twist.
How can we rank bookstores? By aesthetics? Coziness? Selection? Notoriety? The cuteness and cuddliness of the live-in cats?