Oxford

I have just returned to London from Oxford, where I couchsurfed in a tiny townhouse with a university student. She had short red hair, smartly-cut and round, pretty eyes. She wore thick, dark sweaters, despite the warm weather.

She was a bit pretentious and certainly arrogant, but extremely clever. I liked her. I enjoyed listening to her prattle while we sipped tea in her old, white kitchen. Occasionally I would chime in a few words myself. She gave me a tour of her school’s gardens and the local, ancient bars, while explaining the local history and culture.

The school’s natural history museum must be one of my favorite spaces on Earth.

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