What a flummoxer of a week. Yikes. And I'm turning 29!

Yet I was this close to PJ Harvey and this close to a baby deer caught in our headlights and this close to flying out of a bucket seat attached to a jet propelled engine glowing in the dark above the flickering voices, the musical tents, and the ancient trees.

The most important thing is to grow old properly. Grow old with regrets that don't weigh you down. Grow so old you give shade and shelter.

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