Cigarettes & Petrichor: Prose and Memoirs about London

[Extended Description]

Petrichor - noun - the pleasant, earthy scent produced when rain falls on dry soil.

Hello! This is just some information as to why I am writing these things, so if you want to know, stick around. If not, feel free to head over to the next part, where the writing actually starts. 

As some of you may know, I had the amazing opportunity to travel to Europe during the summer of 2014. I went with a group from my high school on an educational tour through London and Paris. We spent a few days in each city, soaking up culture and information, learning a million new things, and most importantly, (at least this is the way I see it) falling in love. 

I fell head-over-heals with the city of London. This is probably obvious. The city is amazing, surprisingly clean, friendly, and so full of things to see and do. 

But I also fell in love with my group. We were like a family. With jokes and memories that only we can explain, we're knit tighter than we are with some of our biological family members. 

Now, the trip was a whirlwind. Nine days of early mornings, late nights, little sleep, interesting food, and non-stop walking. We were exhausted. And the brain is a funny thing, it likes to hide things from us, block out memories that we'd much rather be reliving and re-loving. Luckily for me these memories have not faded forever, and as they have come back I've laughed, cried, and had many an interesting conversation because of them.

It's been a year. In fact, as I'm writing this, it's the one year anniversary of one of the greatest days of my life. 

The days are gone, but the memories are forever. And since I am a hopeless romantic and a writer at heart, my mind is full of words. Too many words. Words that I wanted desperately to write down. 

I hope you enjoy my jumbled memoirs of Cigarettes and Petrichor.

Also, in case anyone was wondering, the cover is a photo I took of the train station nearest to our hotel. It was the kind of home-base we went to every morning and every night, and it is where the first piece, Four Thousand Miles, takes place.