I’m here chilling out with an iced mocha while a flourish of rainbow-clad pride festival-goers orders coffee and sweets on their way to a day-time street dance. This is my home for a week, a tiny island I’ve retreated to, where it’s easier to find an honour-system produce stand on the side of the road than a phone signal.
It’s quiet, it’s peaceful, it’s a good place to press “publish” on Own Up Grown-Up.
I’m jacked-up on the divine combination of caffeine and chocolate, and of finally launching this thing that has been brewing in my head for years. But first, let me tell you when this abstract philosophy finally became concrete.
It happened in a pool of hot, steamy liquid.