They say French is the language of love. Something about Casablanca, the Eiffel Tower and baguettes just ooze romance. I never understood the connection that so many wax poetic about. That was, of course,...

I am a hypocrite. I try to remain firm as I explain to the blubbering child how he has broken camp rules, but I can’t help feeling a twinge of sympathy and even a little guilt. Though the boy has...

Emotionally drained from the previous night, I deliberated whether I should really go to school such a fragile state. But anything was better than staying at home. Walking into school with my earphones...