It’s just a little too difficult to be in love with only one thing, and for now, I’m juggling romances with languages and photography and Latin American History and baking. In between trips to Tenochtitlan and Santorini, I focus a lot on paper. Some times it’s waxy and cookies are sitting on it, some times it’s 8 to 10 pages long and double-space, and other times I prefer the paper that’s been sprinkled with silver and branded with some forgettable snapshot of camp or the last day of sixth grade.
I’m someone who is too old to not know what I want to do, and too young to do anything I think I’d like to pursue. In the meantime, I figure that with baking, I’m justified in eating my feelings. Because I just made them from scratch. And really, we can’t let this go to waste.