I really love souvenirs. I try to pick up something meaningful and traditional from wherever I go, which usually results in me carrying a backpack full of highly breakable ceramics.
When I remember my 2009 semester in Buenos Aires, too many “nevers” come to mind. I will never be 19 again. I will never drink so much malbec that I jump into a pool fully clothed. I’ll never eat choripán with chimichurri on the street with friends, laughing like crazy. And a small but deeply … Read more