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Units of Closure

In The Art of Travel Fall 2015, Shanghai, Looking back by Sammy Song1 Comment

I almost prefer the earlier blog prompts assigned with reference sources because lately without the departure point of that literature I can hardly muster anything to write about. It seems the unremarkable circumstances of my daily living can inspire me to say far less than can critical literature having already reckoned with ground-level accidents of living. Instead of the primordial …

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Keep On Living

In Florence, The Art of Travel Fall 2015, Looking back by Akemi Aiello1 Comment

I’ve taken my final flight of the semester and I’m finally home. After following my posts you may assume that I couldn’t be happier. Everyone here is asking how my trip was and “What is the one thing you learned?” “Do you think you feel different?” And every time I answer they say “Huh, interesting…” Like it isn’t profound enough …

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In Florence, The Art of Travel Fall 2015, Looking back by Erica Pappas1 Comment

I write to you from Zurich, the first of five cities I’ve glued to the end of my study abroad trip. I’m spending a few days here decompressing at the home of my dad’s very welcoming friend from college, sleeping in his eleven-year-old daughter’s bedroom which is barely large enough to hold her bed and her enormous, empty gerbil cage …

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Nos Vemos

In Buenos Aires, The Art of Travel Fall 2015, Looking back by Nina1 Comment

If I am going to leave Argentina without being an emotional wreck I will have to leave not by saying “goodbye” but instead by saying “Nos vemos”, because I know I will be seeing Argentina again in the future. “Nos vemos” is much less final than goodbye. It lets me be hopeful that this isn’t the last time I will …

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Adieu, Paris

In The Art of Travel Fall 2015, Paris, Looking back by Firozah Najmi2 Comments

I have just one week left in Paris. That’s hard to swallow. The last three-and-a-half months have been a whirlwind of excitement, novelty, and tragedy. It is still difficult to retrospectively identify how I have changed, but the countless blows to my metaphorical protective shell have revealed the gruesome real world to me. Paris broke my heart in more ways …