The World at 30
A certain level of existential dread creeps in as I approach each birthday and I am forced to confront the fact that time truly only moves in one direction: forward.
Framing. Focus. Finesse.
A certain level of existential dread creeps in as I approach each birthday and I am forced to confront the fact that time truly only moves in one direction: forward.
I felt like I won the lottery: a parking spot directly in front of the terminal, an ontime flight, and an empty middle seat! The previous night I made a