If, years ago, you told young me, fresh me, that in the future that was coming, I would wander the world, I would meet thousands of beautiful people scattered all around the globe, I would sit on stages in bookstores and theaters, I would photograph true love in dozens of forms, I would have called you a liar. I never predicted a wild life for myself, never saw myself living a peripatetic existence. I saw a life of stillness, in and around the town I grew up in, after a childhood of this wandering. I saw a life not boring, but routine, and I saw myself settling into a groove. This did not occur, this did not come to be. Quite the opposite in fact, as all of the above things
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