Some years ago, I overheard my aunt telling my mom that her niece had run away with the carnival… again, leaving behind her navy boyfriend, who chased after her and tracked down the carnival encampment. I was like, “Wait! What?…
When I was twenty-two, I ran away to Prague, where I now sing to my black cat (who collects dustballs in her whiskers), eat chocolate for breakfast, and have lemon tarts every Thursday.