Another birthday. The cake was good. The company was lovely. Every year I feel less sparkly and this year felt especially lackluster and I found myself to be sans a celebratory spirit. There seems to be a consensus regarding 29, at least in my circle. There is an immense and bizarre pressure, both as the last year of your twenties, thus one should party your face off and live it up, but also as the year before the big 3-0, thus prompting one to get your shit straight once and for all.
Can I just stick to eating cake, s'il vous plait.
And drinking bubbly, of course.
Stills from from Danny William's film entitled "Harold Stevenson" via A Walk into the Sea,
a great documentary about William's life and work.
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