Well, I have 62 days to go for holidays. With 8 days of exams, a week of lab finals, around 20 assignments aaaannddd . . Finals almost the next day.
A poem for my instagram.
So last week I started to elaborate on one of the places I've had the fortune (or misfortune) of living in till a storm hit my school and it started to slide towards bankruptcy.
This is part one of the story of one of the seven schools I've been to. There is drama, there is tension and ofcourse, the principal with principles.
"So here's my baby sister. The watchtower to my fort, badass tennis pro in the making."
"A cycle. The most primitive form of travel, every child's first love. A cycle means so much more than just something that gets you from point A to point B."
"Since most of us are still floating on happy clouds of post-holiday euphoria, let me give you a small recap of the last few days of the previous semester."
"Have you sunk so low into your gastronomic misery that you no longer recall what good food tastes like?"
Woes of an anemic encapsulated in beginner attempts at poetry