I’m sitting in a Starbucks in Los Angeles watching the people and checking my posture. On page 305 of Homo Deus, a book I ceaselessly bring up in conversation, I find myself more in tune with what I want from myself and life. Something about Harari’s (seemingly) effortless prose invites me to feel like I’m being let in on a secret. The world is what you make it. What do I know but my experiences and feelings?
I love so much and desire is testing. It’ll all make sense in time.