Show notes
The low, steady hum of the air conditioning and murmur of the distant crowd is my prelude. A sound I’ve come to associate with a specific kind of peace, a quiet readiness. Forty. This is the fortieth time I’ve stood here, in the cool, engineered dark, watching the final checks on the jumbotron. The scent of ozone, thousands of flowers, and old dust is the same. The nervous energy seeping through the curtains from the arena, that’s the same, too. Only I am different.
Fifteen years ago, I sat out there, under the glare of lights that felt accusatory. My gown was a dead weight. That morning, a…
Website: empathynode.substack.com
