African Rhythms

I’m lying in bed, staring up at the bare single lightbulb that casts a dim glow in my room, wondering when the next electricity outage will be. I just got off a vchat with my best friend from college, the connection between Namaacha and London suprisingly clear. My mãe is singing a tune that seems…

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Home

Home. What is home? Living in Quito has made me question the definition of home, reworking it to encompass my experiences abroad. I have often wondered how long it must one be in a place to be able to say one lived there. For it to feel like home. Is three months enough? Is 10.5?…

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