Today, my life unfolded in run-on sentences:

After learning how to fend off attackers via pressure points in hapkido (you know, the usual knuckle jab to the ribs and chin thrust to the collarbone, a twist of an arm or tweak of the neck here and there), one of my classmates gave me a piece of gum that tasted like my grandmother's bathroom: lavender and frost blue soap seahorses and clam shells, rosebuds swimming in a potpourri pool.

I spent my evening at the happening intercity bus terminal (a hub of culture and transportation), debating to travel or not to travel over pizza, burpalo (buffalo) wings, and sealed-for-freshness sweet pickles.