itchy foot nomad
When humans hurt me, I move. And the worse the hurt... the further the distance. My initial 2002 departure to Australia was sprung by a dapper physicist with glassy green eyes who ran my heart through a meat grinder. He's married with two children, I still get the occasional email. The next time my heart was shredded into an unidentifiable pile of slimy red flaps was by my first husband. And the day I decided to leave, really leave, was the day...