The sun is shining in, there is peach tea and apple with yoghurt to munch quietly. I'm reading everything at once: feminist books, a smattering of chick-lit, the newest Frankie magazine, my favourite blogs that I haven't caught up with in a while.
It's my 28th birthday tomorrow. In an abstract way, 28 is something of a non-event birthday. My mum tells me 28 is the year of Saturn's return, or the year I become an adult. While I am at times skeptical of such pronouncements, this one actually feels about right. Things I want are becoming clearer and more specific, instead of the "I want everything" feeling from before.
In a less abstract way, I wonder if I will wake up tomorrow with that little birthday zing I've had every birthday so far. A birthday is a birthday, after all.