I’m close to throwing a tantrum in the face of the Universe. A grown-up one, with big words and everything. I’ve lived here five years looking at that same corner, same tinny house, same Indian store and all of sudden they’ve opened the door. The hopeful audacity of it. That if you try, they will come. If you stay open and welcoming, people will turn around and look after you. If you fight just a little more, ‘No’ might turn to ‘Yes’. It’s easy to turn my cynicism audacious, to make the Bullshit calls loud and clear. It’s harder to choose a hopeful audacity. A plucky bleeding courage that keeps on playing anyway. A hopeful audacity that compells me to put on my unicorn panties, fight hard tomorrow but not against myself.