July 10, 2018:
Workspaces.
Hotel front desk. University computer room. Recording studio.
In the grand scheme of things there's not much time separating these epochs in one's little life. The hotel was 1987 or 1988; the university and the studio were 1991 or 1992. In four years I opened and closed a business, parlayed my computer skills into a career, practiced a lot of fake-it-till-you-make-it, started up the income ladder which paid my debts before the end of the millennium.
Yet those four years are the separators between life, death, and the struggle for resurrection. Where the resurrection that followed has never been as real, or as vibrant, or as meaningful, as the life before.