The end is near. I can feel the sweet, clean air of Portland lightly brushing my skin. I can taste the water, straight from the faucet, clear and cold as it washes all taste from my tongue and throat. I can see the rivers, the mountain, the ever green trees, grass, sword ferns.
But I am here, where the air is dirty but life is good. I've learned a great deal this semester about myself, about those around me and about my God. Maybe when I get home and I don't have a considerable amount of Russian staring me in the face I will write about it. An end-of-semester-reflection, if you will?
California, how did I come to love you?
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