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Based on the Amazon Travel Writing Bestseller- Wander(lust): Letters From a Wanderer. Travel through memories of first love and heartbreak set around the globe in places like iconic New York City in the morning and Rome at twilight. This collection of wanderlust-filled moments captured in words and read aloud by the author and guest readers will satisfy anyone who has ever loved and lost a person, a city, or another life. The book is available on Amazon worldwide and online in major bookstor ...
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Airport Arrivals (Guest Read by @thepasseggiata)
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“Luggage-less, I walked up to the sliding doors and blinked as I felt the sudden whoosh of air against my face. When I opened them again, I was standing in front of this familiar stranger. A face and a smile that I knew from a different world, when our surroundings were my comfort zone and the language was my own.”…
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Rooftops and Rome (Guest Read by: @michaela_loredana)
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“ They say Rome is meant to be lived on rooftops. I think it’s meant to be lived in the in-between, the dash, the dot, dot, dot… like those moments right before you see each other across the lit piazza when the tension and anticipation is so high that all you can hear is the sound of your own heartbeat and the voices of all your friends back home a…
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One Day in Positano (Guest Read by Meg Zacheja)
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“...and he looks like a dream”. You can find Meg on Instagram as @mzacheja.By Jasmine Crystal Mah
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Magnolias in Milan (Guest Read by: James Otto Allen)
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“It was spring when we met. The panna cotta colored magnolias were in full bloom in Milan and their sweet perfume seemed to come in waves, in little puffs of perfection. He paused and looked up at them for a moment, almost pink against the bright, bluebird sky, but then instantly regretted stopping. She used to love this time of year. Primavera. If…
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The Romantics (Guest Read by: Julianne Farricker)
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“I have this guilty pleasure whenever I travel and it's to first guess where people are from and then why they are going where they're going, all before we've exchanged any actual words. For whatever reason, I pegged this one as an Italian going home. There's just ways I can tell now, I can't explain how. It's not even that this boy looked classica…
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This is the last chapter of my debut book, Wander(lust) and essentially the “title track”. “Like the pull of gravity, like the tides, there is no other alternative and no other direction to move in except into each other. Perhaps this is what they mean by wanderlust. That it was never about places in the first place, it was always about people.” Yo…
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The Long Goodbye (Guest Read by: Elissa Dell’Aera)
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“Maybe I'll be back here in fifty years from now, sitting under the sun with wrinkles and grey hair, a pocketbook full of photographs and a life lived and out of the corner of my eye, I'll be looking for a boy I once knew. I need to memorize him, I tell myself. His dark eyes and the way they speak Italian to me with a look. The curve of his back an…
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“Then there’s that perfect red wine buzz, he’ll be ordering bottles of Brunello like the world is ending tomorrow and you have to live your entire life in one night. And the warmth of the wine spreads all the places you want his hands to be and the thought is exciting isn’t it? Like a coming-together of the continents, a world merging when lips mee…
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Airport Arrivals (Guest Read by: Joanna Collins)
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“I kissed him, which is always a bold move after you’ve been travelling for over 14 hours but seems almost obligatory at airport arrivals, if not for yourself, then to add to the romance of it all for everyone else.” You can find Joanna on Instagram as @msjcoll.By Jasmine Crystal Mah
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One Day in Positano (Guest Read by: Sarah Lackey)
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“I'm woken from my Lambrusco-induced sleep by the sound of Lorenzo attempting to balance a tray filled with cappuccini, cream-filled brioches, and hand-squeezed spremuta from Sicilian blood oranges as he walks precariously towards me. The juice looks like a sunset in a glass and he looks like a dream.” You can find Sarah on Instagram as @sarlucky.…
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Call Me Baby (Guest Read by: Bethany Prudente)
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“I used to hate it when my boyfriends would call me baby. Don't call me that, I'd say. Don't call me baby. Now I'm writing this four thousand miles from home, across the Atlantic Ocean where the boys don't speak my mothertongue and they say things like bella, tesoro, and amore. And I loved it at first, the swirls of each familiar letter that placed…
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“We met in high school in small town America, you playing the perfect role of foreign exchange student and I, just one of the many girls that fell for you and your dark hair that would fall over your eyes in calculus, you and your leather jacket and All-Stars and the way you’d ask questions by inflicting the end of your sentences rather than invert…
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Mulberries in Sicily (Guest Read by Kelly Leonardini)
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“I had never eaten a mulberry before that steamy afternoon at the market in Catania. I had to look up the English translation afterwards, I didn’t even know what a mulberry was. A fictional thing perhaps, a figment of nursery rhymes and stories told by grey-haired grandfathers on front porches. In my imagination, mulberries belong in a Nicholas Spa…
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Rooftops and Rome (Guest Read by Flavia Brunetti)
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“It was sometime in summer, let’s call it a midsummer’s night and Rome was suffocating with the kind of heat that emanates from the city, from every single cobblestone and ruin, after a long, hot day of pure sunshine. It’s that season when everyone and everything in the city is a little more provocative- the hemlines rise, shoulders and collarbones…
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“I want a Sunday kind of love. When Saturday night’s perfectly applied makeup is smeared on one of those throwaway wipes and my hair is a mess and we guiltlessly spend all morning in sweatpants in bed. I’ll wear your college T-shirt with the faded "H" and the tiny hole on the right shoulder, you’ll wear a smile. And you’ll be scruffy even though yo…
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“The pitter patter of the drops like a heartbeat and I suddenly remember how fast mine was as you kissed me in a downpour and the sky opened up around us. It takes me back to simpler moments that I took for granted- running with you, tucked into your trench coat and under one umbrella, trying to find refuge in the warm glow of a Parisian restaurant…
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“I couldn’t believe the summer was ending. Just a few weeks ago, I remember holding my passport and a dog-eared dictionary in my hand as I waited impatiently for my backpack. It was easy to spot, covered in patches that I’d hand-sewed from every city I’d ever visited. Usually I would sit on a hostel floor, armed with the needle and thread and as if…
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“That summer, I was in awe of you. You made me marvel before I knew the word. You were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Wide-eyed, I took to your cobblestone streets, negotiating the path of Gods and lesser gods in high-heels and dodging glances from your entourage, dark-eyed and tempting. But it wasn’t them I was looking at, nor the men n…
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“It was that moment that every lover dreads, the end of summer. The coloured umbrellas and lettini were being rinsed of the salt, sun, and sea that had plummeted them over the last three months. I watched as they were folded one by one and carefully piled away to await another summer a year from now. I sat with him, shoulders touching, watching the…
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