The last time I wrote a letter on New Year’s Eve was in Dallas, at the tail end of 2015.
I like the ambiguity of this beginning, that it could be read by anyone, going anywhere, and still resonate
My phone is full of lists. I have a decent memory but I forget things.
It’s been a minute since we last talked, hasn’t it?
If you're reading this, I survived Cerro de la Muerte and made it to Zane's site.
I'm traveling soon.
I’m never certain why someone would want to be friends with me in the first place.