Johanna Poremba·Jan 5, 2021A writer’s mind is a muscle.When regularly oiled, it runs smoothly and seamlessly with life itself. Creative thoughts emerge like swollen clouds dancing across one’s…
Johanna Poremba·Jun 2, 2020Blue.I walk outside to meet the scent of freshly fallen rain. The birds are singing loudly, feasting on tonight’s catch. It’s all so beautiful…
Johanna Poremba·May 21, 2020Letter to My Future SelfWhen they come, I hope you are ready. I hope you are ready to teach them the things your parents were not strong enough to teach you.
Johanna Poremba·Jan 22, 2020Time is a Privilege.Your vessel will rot as it cycles around the sun and gravity pulls your flesh towards the earth. You will die — make no mistake. The world…
Johanna Poremba·May 13, 2017At what point does a moment become a memory?You see, for someone like me, the moment when you are first told, “you have cancer,” never seems to become a memory. For someone like me…
