The year 2020 will be an anniversary - of the year I graduated and stormed wildly into the world, of the year I lost my father.
It has started with storms and rain, a trip to the big city, a new laptop and the demonic whisperings of January.
New Year's Eve was deliciously spent in the company of a minister, luxury pizza in a hot basement, old movies from the last Twenties in a hipster bar, blueberry champagne and fireworks.
The trip to the big city included fire and lights, the science museum with a planetarium, simulators and VR and basketball-playing rats, breakfast with Russians, English books, too much walking, a singing blackbird, the best library I've ever seen and a lovely quilt.
The new laptop means that I can see no happiness in life until I have successfully installed the most uninstallable but necessary software.
The demonic whisperings of January means the normal demonic whisperings of the month of darkness. The sun, energy and meaning do not exist right now. Nothing to do about it except take vitamins and walks and binge on Netflix.
Better times are coming.
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