Text reads: A few months before my 30th birthday I gave up my hopes and dreams. Every day for thirty days I wrote down my wildest fantasies and most practical, impossible plans. I heard someone say that it is in fact hope that drives rage. The hope that inflates expectations, rage at falling short. I feel myself heavy with promise.

 

That night that I almost died, my mum getting sick and world events at large.

I carried a notebook with me at all times and after 30 days, I took it for a walk to the park, bought a disposable BBQ and freed myself from the burden of dreaming. I made peace with reality. Saying goodbye to an age of hope i found courage in hopelessness