The bounds of what’s possible felt stretched.
In Oxford, I found myself trotting along the steps Lyra of the Golden Compass must have grazed in an alternate reality. There, I floated between Starbucks and Sainsbury without care for efficiency, often darting back and forth to my heart’s content. I carried trays of English strawberries on clearance to a bank I don’t belong to. I watched kingfishers and rowers enjoy the sunset by a boat-lined creek. In Oxford, I bought cookies and ate ice creams and floated home with cloud soft brioche. Click on a button below to get started.