I’m a guitar hoarder from the Baby Boom generation. I grew up in the Beatles era when everyone played guitar and formed garage bands, trying to sound like the Ventures, Rolling Stones, or The Who.
An actual blank page needn’t announce itself—it’s merely blank. Likewise for a simple life—it’s simple not because it reports to be, but because of what’s there, and what isn’t.
One night, a couple of years ago, my phone was stolen during a night out with my friends. Trying in vain to track its location the following day, I was overwhelmed with a feeling that a piece of me was missing.