When was the last time you went to a dance-class? The way the baseline surges through your body, and vibrates through your chest. The way the sound of those velvety strings wrap themselves around your arms, pulsates through your muscles and electrifies your legs to swing in broad circles across the smooth ballroom floor.

Grab your notebook and a writing-tool. If you don't own any, do yourself a favour and buy a moleskin and a pen that glides smoothly across the pages, then return and continue reading.

It’s 1pm. I’m standing at the Woolies (grocery store) across the road. My mind is stuck in neutral: “Do I take the Chicken pesto, or thai chicken curry? Oh, there’s a low-cal Beef Stroganoff option, but the cellophane on that packet looks cancerous… or should I just have a fruit-salad? But fruit have sugars, which will spike my insulin….” a full minute later, I walk out with the same meal I had yesterday. It’s just easier.

I don't have a bathroom mirror or any mirror, for that matter. When I wake up, I grab my electric shaver and mow the lower half of my face, until it "feels smooth enough". My hair, on the other hand, has a personality of its own. I call the sheepish shrub above my forehead “Dennis" (although he likes to be referred to as "The Master”.)