There's a particular romance to wandering without a map. You don't notice it at the time — when you're broke, half-certain you've taken a wrong turn, telling yourself tomorrow is the day you get it together. In hindsight, though, those years begin to glow. The long nights. The false starts. The strange little triumphs no one clapped for.
I'm grateful for my forty years in the desert. Don't misunderstand me — it was dry, uncomfortable, and often lonely. But it taught me how to sit with uncertainty. How to sharpen taste. How to recognize the difference between myself and other people's descriptions of me. Most importantly, it taught me that the good stuff tends to happen off the main road…
— trev, 2026
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