This time last year…

…I was excitedly preparing for a month in New York in the early spring.

If you’d told me that within a year I’d not only have not gone to the US, but that I’d stopped having my hair cut and coloured, and that I’d stopped going out to see friends, I’d have thought that I must have had some sort of breakdown, or I’d been arrested for a crime I didn’t commit.

Or maybe did commit. Why I’m so sure I didn’t commit it?

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