I have to confess, this was my song of the moment a couple of months back too. It just does not get old. I turned 35 on Friday – aaaargh! – and I realised how much (nothing?) has changed. I was happy to do nothing for my birthday. I chose to do nothing. (As opposed to a couple of years ago where celebrations and music and bubblies were on the cards a couple of weeks in advance.)

I don’t feel particularly old. Sure, it’s a big number and mid-life crisis is glistening on the horizon, but I don’t feel a day older than 17. I might be a bit wiser – I should hope so – but nothing much has changed. A couple of extensions have been added to my life and so on, but overall: nothing has changed… Yet, at times I feel like an inverted version of myself.

According to The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows, the word avenoir means the desire that memory could flow backward. It explains:

We take it for granted that life moves forward. But you move as a rower moves, facing backwards: you can see where you’ve been, but not where you’re going. And your boat is steered by a younger version of you. It’s hard not to wonder what life would be like facing the other way…

Kids on the run by The Tallest Man on Earth is exactly that. This song stirs that feeling of so much has changed but nothing has changed at all. I still daydream, I still have no perception of time and I still ruin my right shoe’s tip within the first month of wearing… Or do I?

My Reiki therapist once asked me “can you remember who you were before the world told you who you are?” It sounds like such a simple question, but the question in itself becomes so complex the more you think about it. And the more I think about it, the more I realise I am still a kid on the run.

Yours in nostalgia,

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