I complain often about growing older, but it’s a joke I’ve taken too far. Truthfully, I couldn’t be happier to admit I’m old. If I could freeze time, I’d stop it here — old enough to have lived, young enough to still anticipate the future with nervous excitement. With age comes the ability to reflect, and the older I get, the swifter that ability turns to desire. Every new experience is an opportunity to place our memories in a new context.
Two years ago at the behest of every music obsessive in my social network, I packed a few days’ worth of belongings and headed to Austin, Texas to lose my South by Southwest virginity. Of all the music festivals, it seemed like the place I most belonged—which is precisely why I’d been avoiding it.
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