a boy called karl henry.

this post is about a boy called karl henry, who on a wednesday night in a canadian hostel overheard a girl at her lowest crying in the laundry room and was kind enough to come and say hello, are you alright? a boy who spent two hours chatting to a nervous wreck about british vs canadian rivalries, strange people in alaska and kayaking in the yukon, who reminded me why hostelling is brilliant and that even when it feels so bad you're thinking of giving up, there is always something around the corner to surprise you.

a boy i'll never see again, but i'll never forget. thank you so much.