A Year in Review: Reflecting on Fucking, on Loving, on Money, and Connection.
What is a year to a girl whose time is counted in hours?
There’s an old joke that goes; if you want to know the value of a second; ask someone who’s choking. If you want to know the value of a minute, ask someone who’s drowning. If you want to know the value of a life, ask a grandparent, and if you want to know the value of an hour, ask a whore.
With many years in this industry under my belt, I have an uncanny ability to know exactly how much time has passed. I wear a watch, but it’s more for show than anything. When I glance at it, I already know the time, and I’m starting to ask the question that isn’t really a question but is a gentle suggestion to GTFO, “So, what are your plans for the rest of the day?”
Because my time is measured in such short increments, it’s hard to conceptualize things longer than an hour, sometimes. An overnight with a client that suffers from sinus problems can feel like a lifetime, and yet a year of travel, living in the big city, loss and love can go by in an instant.
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