So it’s been two years since that New Year’s eve we spent on top of a mountain with nothing but a few cruddy tents and some gin. I still remember the way the city came alive with tiny dancing lights, the cold of the wind on our faces, your arms around me, the constant drizzle, the awkward question. Two years later I still can’t believe any of that was real. We watched the fireworks from above. We could not care less about the small city underneath us. I cannot imagine anything as majestic as that.