South Carolina

I believe I ended up here accidentally at the age of three. But my Mom planned the move just weeks before it happened, so I left the dry southern California climate and gradually acclimated to my jungle temperate home. I grew up in Conway, South Carolina. For eight years, I lived in Charleston. I played outside during the sweltering summers; I used q-tips to coat my mosquito bites in calamine lotion. My grandma taught me how to shell shrimp. When I decided to start running, a hobby that is impossible to quit, I ventured onto the pavement during the summer. I've endured 115 degree heat indexes--nearly vomited at the end of so many cross country and track races--but somehow stuck out 13 years of running over bridges, through swamps and forests. South Carolina is hot, but it's home. Its landscape is diverse and breathtaking, and its history is violent. I grew up along the Waccamaw River and remember watching snakes dangle from trees while drifting on a fishing boat with my uncle. Being aware of geometric shapes gliding along the surface of the water is where I learned to pay attention to details. While unsuspecting tourists may be awing at the Spanish Moss drifting in the wind, I keep my gaze fixated on the black water. At any given time, two circular objects may poke out of the black water, which are usually attached to an armored body.