2 Apr 2022

The bar is crowded. A man sings a crude cover of The Killers on an impossibly small stage and I wonder how old I look, objectively. I feel as though I’ve been on this earth for centuries, churning out a life, making it taste sweeter or more complex.

A woman with curly dark hair wearing a bandana looks through a circular cutout in a slatted wood panel, at night in backyard bar.

```