Wednesday night, I drove myself to a hospital in rural New Zealand, where I collapsed on the emergency room floor in intense pain.
They say we never forget our first time, and in my experience that maxim applies to more than just its colloquial uses for drugs and sex. For me at least, it applies to travel, as well.
In mid-December I opened my email and discovered a surprise: a playlist, automatically curated by Spotify, that included the 101 top songs I had listened to for the year. Curious about what might be on it, I clicked the link, and scrolled.
The worst was that in looking at MY OWN image, I could see everything I sought to avoid knowing about myself. I couldn’t hide that. I had to transform it.