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September 2018

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One sight of the mountains left me unraveled. From the lookout point of a college library, Lake Champlain drifts in sapphire ripples, cut with jagged white sprays of collision. Perched over the water, the Adirondacks rise like sentries. A vision of blues mimicking sky and sea, a cadence of peaks layered on top of one another that ribbon along the horizon. Interrupted only by pompadour domes decorating the tops of the campus buildings, the view is endless. And after my first look, I was hypnotized. Whatever the reason for returning, with every visit to Burlington, Vermont I’m caught in a…

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“Un macaron… vanille et fraise, s’il vous plaît.” After finally putting my high school lessons to use, I concluded my French was good, not great, and I tried to funnel my request for the vendor alone to hear me. She, engulfed by the shade of her stand’s red and white striped awning, smiled warmly, nodded, and placed the white and pink pastries into a brown glassine bag. My best friend and I were perusing the Marche aux Fleurs Cours Saleya in Nice, France, bending on the shoulder of the Mediterranean. The open-air market abounded with bright tents, a dazzling but…

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