to jacob : a postcard
letters, writing Victoria Lin letters, writing Victoria Lin

to jacob : a postcard

You don't come to live here unless the delusion of a reality shaped around your desires isn't a strong aspect of your personality. A reality shaped around your own desires — there is something sociopathic in that ambition.

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home and other iterations
writing, photos Victoria Lin writing, photos Victoria Lin

home and other iterations

Every morning, I climb into the mute woman's bosom and she carries me in her bloodstream, veins spiderwebbing across the city. A lifegiving force over a century-old, still steady and strong. Anonymous infinities collide against each other in the rapidly flowing current.

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an education
writing Victoria Lin writing Victoria Lin

an education

There are the memories, too—so precious, almost unbelievable, and just as important as everything else in the formation of the corpus of my education.

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cultureshocked
writing Victoria Lin writing Victoria Lin

cultureshocked

As of today, I've been in France for 56 days. That's longer than the amount of time I spent in Tajikistan, longer than any stretch of time I've been home in New Jersey since graduating high school—strange to consider.

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biarritz: the beginning
travel, writing, photos Victoria Lin travel, writing, photos Victoria Lin

biarritz: the beginning

I've been in Biarritz, a picturesque little beach town in the south of France, for the past two weeks. The houses here all have orange roofs and colorful shutters in blue, red, orange set against their white walls. I spend a lot of time on the beaches, which are crawling with surfers in search of waves and tourists hungry for a final taste of summer.

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