Today is November 1st. It’s an unassuming day. It’s a regular grey Thursday in Amsterdam. It’s a work day, but I am sick in bed. You know the drill; the weather changes and boom! you’re sick – I vow every time to start taking vitamins.
Maybe it’s a good thing. Maybe it’s good to be forced into rest – it’s something I’m terrible at, after all. So, rest it is. I have been sleeping and drinking tea and doing boring at-home things. But you guys, today is November 1st. And this year, at this time in my life, it’s anything but unassuming.
This November 1st feels big. This November 1st feels changing. And as I sit in bed doing boring at-home things I feel the weight of this juxtaposition. I feel the weight of the changes that I have set into motion.
I’m sure you’re wondering what the hell I am talking about. I secretly wanted it to be that way – writing is fun, isn’t it? But now I intend to explain.
Now, I want to tell a story. It’s a story that’s 6 years in the making, though you could argue that the beginnings were actually much longer ago.
It’s a story that, because I enjoy poetic symmetry, I will tell in six parts. Ready, set, go.