One of the perks of being a writer is that people give you things you don’t deserve. Things you probably couldn’t afford. Or if you can, it would be irresponsible to spend money on them.
I have flown in choppers over Cape Town, been in the same room with Snoop Dogg, gone shark diving, stayed in a ridiculously exclusive resort in Zanzibar, and stayed in a resort in Diani where I saw Brad Pitt sunbathing. I’ve been on a first-class flight to France that felt so surreal I didn’t want to breathe too hard and risk upsetting the grave inequality of life.
