Olympia, 2
Back in the summer of 2018, I had returned from a wonderful roadtrip with a dear friend of mine and experienced sharp schism between an amorous friendship. I was jaded and despondent. A year had passed since living in the Bay Area, which sucked me dry. The redwood forests of the Santa Cruz mountains were tantalizingly silent on my pain then. I had hoped that a change of pace in my life, in becoming a grad student on a mission to save the world, and a hop over the street to a church that made me feel at home, would give me respite. I had hoped that friendships would sprout and heal me. The world was callous toward me then, for no apparent reason. The lovestruck charisma I had cultivated in such a sweet short time had walloped into obsidian shards. Shear-shorn in asymmetrically broken swashes of elegant continuity. Life was hard. An area I found hope was writing for a journal contest for students. It was put on by Comment magazine, a thoughtful and not-heterodox Christian journal for English-speakers in North America. One of the prompts was to respond to minimalism. Along with editing help from my fellow journal editor, Katie, here is my essay. It relies heavily on Olympia.
Read More