Mallory Smith

Where dreams meet nostalgia. Where grammar meets Pixie Sticks. Wishing I remembered what those wax bottle-shaped candies with fruit juice in the middle were called. Wishing I was singing "Shoo Fly Don't Bother Me" on the back porch with my dad and cherry Otter Pop stickiness all over my hands. Wishing I knew Bordeauxs like I know the words to 500 miles by the Proclaimers. Wishing I was traveling the world. Wishing I could hear my echoes in Iceland's deep blue glacier ice caves and hear Sigur Ros sing on the island's grassy hills. Wishing I was there, and loving the squishy mud between my toes every step of the way.