“My life at that time was full of passing relationships: people I knew for days, or even hours, and who posed for Polaroid-like snapshots in my memory which outlast many of the long-exposure images I’ve collected since.”
“My sense of the scale of the world, and its speed, changed that night, and I carry the memory with me today the way some people carry amulets or worry stones: a reminder that there is always an Iceland to return to, a place where, in an unexplored city in the wee hours just south of the Arctic Circle, strangers are dancing and the seemingly impossible isn’t. I was twenty-two, but I think of this as when my twenties actually began.”
“You’re far from home. It’s quiet. All at once, you have a thrilling sense of nowness, of the sheer potential of a verdant night with all these unmet people in it. For a long time after that, you think you’ll never lose this life, those dreams. But that was, as they say, then.”
For all the twenty-somethings reading this, do me a small favor; you need to. Read this absolutely beautiful and in its own way, heartbreaking, gem of a writeup by Nathan Heller on our semi-charmed lives – go here.