In the cover photo for an event on Facebook, a young woman arches her back, and opens her mouth. Champagne spills down her throat, froths over her bare shoulders, soaks her long hair.
4 a.m. fears rarely stand to reason in the morning light. The irrational insecurities that race through your brain, colliding like cars on the Autobahn, slow down as the sun comes up.
Oo la la, this French brasserie is worth a visit to Fishtown.
Welcome home. A lot has changed since we submitted our last assignments, had our bags checked at Van Pelt and used our final Dining Dollars on overpriced salsa at Gourmet Grocer.
At the beginning of this summer, I made a 78–item to do list. Tasks ranged from the mundane (email academic advisor) to the absolutely critical (bikini wax ASAP) to the unlikely to receive a check mark (run half marathon). The List (one of many) is part of my Five Year Plan, an ambitious—probably cocky—set of goals which include drafting a novel before turning twenty two, getting into a top law school, and deferring the offer for a year or two participate in a fellowship abroad that fuses human rights research with journalism.
Raising the bar higher.
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