Emily Yao (graphics & text)

I thought I could leave it all behind

at the airport in my hometown.

I thought I could shed the sadness

the overwhelming thoughts and

the dark shadows that loom within.

Foolishly enough, it even crossed

my mind that maybe a journey

to the other side of the world would

cure me once and for all.

But no —

It followed me on to the airplane.

It was right behind me as I sashayed

Down the Old City cobblestone streets.

It was with me at sun-kissed cafés

and on evening walks along the Schuylkill.

Depression travels.

And now I know what it means to be a weary traveler.

It has nothing to do with the miles under my feet

but rather

the storms that nest in my soul.

Haru Sukegawa

a thing about Lisa