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Freelance journalism since 1996: The Independent, The Guardian, The Observer, Esquire, GQ, The Face, Arena, Arena Homme Plus, i-D

Sunday, January 01, 2006


The man started to think about his life.
Take stock. He didn't even feel like a man - the word didn't seem to fit. But he was now at an age where he could no longer describe himself as a 'boy' to others. Plus he could remember his father being the age he now was, and all the time he'd known him, there had been no doubt in his mind that his father was a man.
He thought about how, as a boy, people had presumed he would 'go far'. Not only his family, or even his teachers, but his peers. It was just assumed, not least by the man - then a boy - himself. He still wasn't sure exactly what might constitute 'going far', but now that he was undeniably a man, he felt it was still somewhere he was yet to reach. This disturbed the man, and only served to reinforce his feeling that he was not yet fit to be called a man at all.
So, this being the first day of a new year, he decided upon a resolution. He decided that every day he would write a story, so that in a year's time, even if he had still failed to go far, he would at least have written 365 stories, which, he felt, would be an achievement of sorts.
But first he thought he'd better check if it was a leap year.


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