Sometimes, you're going about your life, minding your own business, when suddenly you remember something unfathomable: "I will die someday." This knowledge briefly collapses your sense of reality and certainty in anything.
I live in New York.
Most people, it seems, do not abruptly change the course of their entire lives on a whim.
"Take risks," he says to me, about the way I eat.
"I do," I say. "I make big ones. I'm with you, aren't I?"
"I'm a risk?"
"You were. I don't think that now, but yeah, you were a huge risk."
Not liking rye bread feels like a small thing in the face of trusting someone when experience tells me not to.
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