From a fairly young age, I always felt the need to choose a direction. A kind of path. A version of myself that made the most sense to whatever situation I found myself in. We moved around more than most, so adapting was a key skill I had to learn early. And once I chose that direction - once I rearranged my room to suit me, I set my personal sails to suit the local wind, the expectation was simple: stick with it, Vanessa. There was a comfort in that idea. One that I definite

I have always loved books of quotes. They sort of sit for me, in that realm of "things I just really wish I had said". Mostly because they are either clever or beautiful or deeply deep. And I think deeply deep down, we all crave being thought of as any of those things. Good quotes - the ones that resonate the deepest - engage us the mostest, because the psychology within them connects directly with how our grey matter processes good information and worthy feelings. Our brains

I n almost every film that involves the use of a map, there always seems to be a moment when one character looks around, stops the group and exclaims, “Wait… I recognise this.” It’s often a tree or a bend in the path, or some feature that painfully drags out the conclusion that everyone has just completed a giant, waste-of-timey circle. There is no sense of metaphor or philosophy here. It is entirely literal. How did we end up back here? It is generally framed as a cross bet