We stand on a dark ally in front of a shiny black door bathed in the golden light of a Victorian street light. A plaque on the door reads, if you didn’t call don’t knock. The setting is so theatrically dark and mysterious I have to laugh Mark knocks twice, then three more times: the door swings open, and we enter a cavernous dungeon. It’s a party of mostly middle-aged men and women.
from The Mind of RD REVILO
When we deny the story, it defines us. When we own the story, we can write a brave new ending.