20 years ago, I could be found in New York City, sipping cappuccinos on sidewalk cafes, writing about the meaning of life.
Here I am, two decades later, in Georgia, parked in front of a suburban juicery, drinking beetroot, and writing about the same exact thing.
Yes, beetroot. I don’t even know me anymore.
Everything is different. Nothing has changed.
The earth spins but never moves. It just accumulates questions with every rotation.
119 blog posts down – 246 left to go…
Rantings of a Stoic 