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These songs are reminders of the days I spent in each place trying to immerse myself in new spaces, cultures and languages.

I excelled at playing the role of the angsty, ungrateful daughter.

For a long time, any enjoyment of trashy vampire novels or silly pop songs had to be cloaked in a thick layer of irony in order to be viewed as acceptable by society.

I consider myself somewhat of a connoisseur of silly little crafts.

To this day, I know the words of that a capella battle in a drained pool by heart, in addition to the spellbindingly fun “Cups” song.

Like Phoebe Waller-Bridge in Fleabag, I turn to an invisible camera to give my unsolicited commentary. Some people talk to God — I talk to an audience that isn’t there.

We were, in our messy, vibrant makeup, starkly divergent from the natural ethereality of Amsterdam and Cambridge. But, in making a life for ourselves within these landscapes, we found beauty in one another and our shared lived experience.

The weather has blemished the grass with a few dry patches, where green has faded to a pearish yellow like worn out denim. It’s not Eden, but it’s eye candy. And entirely off-limits.

The Basilica Cistern had just opened for the first time in five years, and I could feel it beckoning me from below.

As Jay Gatsby drives him to Manhattan, Nick remarks: “The city seen from the Queensboro Bridge is always the city seen for the first time in its first wild promise of all the mystery and the beauty in the world.” Unfortunately, I came in through Newark.