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And if this is it, if this is all there is—just me and the trees and the sky and the seas—I know now that that’s enough.
It is futile and knackering to try and make all your tiny choices representative of your moral compass then beat yourself up when this plan inevitably fails. Feminists can get waxed. Priests can swear. Vegetarians can wear leather shoes. Do as much good as you can. The weighty representation of the world cannot rest on every decision you make.
Let people laugh at you. Let yourself be a tit. Pronounce things wrong. Spill yogurt down your shirt. It is the greatest relief to finally let it happen.
Everything will change. And it could happen any morning.
