In America it’s a casual drive. In Britain it’s basically a weekend commitment. We did Stonehenge and Bath as a day trip—meanwhile people in our life were complaining about a 1½-hour drive for a beach day.

I’ve been free for a while now. Free from the alarm. Free from the commute. Free from the meetings that could have been emails, the emails that should have been nothing, the relentless performance of being productive for someone else’s bottom line. And I want to write something honest about it. Not the version I’d put on camera. The real one. Because freedom, it turns out, is complicated. Finding myself again — slowly The first thing I noticed was that I didn’t know what I ac