Being alive comes naturally but feeling alive isn’t always quite as simple or as easy.

When days can so easily churn in to weeks; where breaths become merely fuel for a machine and monotony is the norm.

It is perhaps the case that the moments when I have felt truly alive are almost countable; like standing on top of an Icelandic mountain range, soaking in the thousands of years worth of volcanic sculpture and still having to catch my breath behind a rucksack. Or the time when I was head first in a ‘mosh pit’ surrounded by bodies erupting from live music and dancing; just dancing. Or conversations with strangers; realising the faces you pass every day are not so strange but human and similar; with similar laughs and lives and loves.

In a world full of life, it seems almost ironic that many of us don’t always find ourselves living.

But perhaps the wisest words I can share at this moment are to never never never fool yourself into thinking you can eat spaghetti in a romantic, or even slightly appealing, manner.

I dare say I learn from experience.

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(Here’s me training to become Grumpy Cat’s stunt double.)

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