Crowded riverfront bars filled with laughter and the smell of fried everything. Music spilling along the alleyways lining the heartbeat of downtown Knoxville. The taste of warm honey sliding off of a flakey, hot biscuit. The wet skin of a palm sized brook trout slipping through my fingers, back into the rhododendron lined streams it calls home. A horse's sides heaving beneath my legs, foggy breath blowing in the crisp mountain air. The view of the sun peeking over the summit of Clingman's Dome.

These are a few of my favorite things. This is a foreign land I now call home, and everyday is an adventure.