Lessons From A Tumultuous Year

In less than three hours, this year will be over. I’m writing these words dressed in a hippo onesie that I bought in South Africa to survive the cold nights in the desert. My partner and I were attending Afrika Burn, the South African version of Burning Man and what I would call a mix between a festival and a community stripped from societal conventions. I was the hippo, my partner was Cookie Monster. We walked through the desert, enjoying the lights, the music, the art, the costumes, the milky way above us. A man stopped us to chat. “Why do you hide?”, he asked. We frowned. We weren’t hiding. Everyone was wearing costumes. There were many other onesies walking around. I felt annoyed. Who did he think he was? I never dance in public but later that night we danced under the starry sky. I unbuttoned my onesie, freed one arm, freed the other and, wearing just a tank top, my skin felt more alive than ever. I felt the cold air, my hair brushing my shoulders, my own blood rushing through my