Travel Musings: Lost in Libraries 

Every library I visit during my travels reminds me of my mother. The countless days we’d walk over to our local library, plastic Food Max bags filled to its handles with ¬†books. She educated her children in a country that never recognized her as its own blood, despite how much she bled on its grounds. I spend every moment questioning how to heal her wounds. So I write each day, hoping letters, ink, keystrokes, and pages can cure the anguish that seeps through her veins. One day, it will.

-S.K.