I'll name you two things that are very pricey but integral to you not falling apart as a human being. One is therapy. The other is theatre... I can't help but feel like one is a bit like the other sometimes, and if you go to the Royal Court this month you can see two plays which are like an a very intense, cathartic, exhausting (but GOOD) workout for your soul.
Has our beloved x, a tiny bit of ink that could once raise your heartbeat, been lost forever to be another meaningless scribble at the end of an email from your accountant? Is x doomed to be just (quite literally) crossed lines forever more or will it come back to be the sweetest of flirts?