I live in a kind of triangle, if you draw a line from the prison/ through the hotel down to the river/ back up to the football stadium
The protesters paralysed the entire country. I am in awe the president listened.
Potatoes are not from Ireland. Rice is not from Ecuador.
I’ve never spent so much time with myself.
Today I woke up and asked for bread in English.
I like to run by the river (at night when you can hear the water and not see the rats)
I expected catholicism in a conservative Polish-grandma way. Here the priest sings and for every rat by the river, there is one couple furiously kissing.
I woke up to a dead rat outside my door (last rat I promise)
When I’m alone I notice all my bad habits. It’s surprisingly confronting.
I love playing charades with the shop attendant. (Success for matches and peanut butter)
The bees flew inside my suit and nobody believed me. Dad is deathly allergic and I liked to joke I might be too. Until they were inside.
Honey. Is. Incredible. Possibly worth the bee genocide.
The Indigenous flag and the pride flag are the same. Go off.
The dog ate my retainer and is always hablando con the stray dogs until they bark and I play superman.
Humans weren’t made to see a highlight-reel of other peoples lives online. I want to unsubscribe from social media, but I don’t think it’s that easy.
I hate reflection on principle, but this is a necessary reminder of how lucky I am.
(Some songs/books I have been enjoying in Ecuador)
Night Sky With Exit Wounds, Ocean Vuong
Normal People, Sally Rooney
Panchinko, Min Jin Lee
Crimewave, Crystal Castles
Motion Sickness, Phoebe Bridges
Bad Idea!, Girl in Red