Lately I have been pondering where to go for my birthday. Despite it being the most important day of the year in my calendar, I have seldom had it to myself, as most years as an adult I have been obligated to work that evening. This year, however, I have decided that I would like to take a true vacation while I turn thirty-three. I would like more than anything to go to Morocco but I don't think that would be a fun trip to take alone. What then? That old Ljubljana-Trieste-Venice route I've fantasized about? Or, perhaps most usefully of all, I return to a wistful post of a couple of years ago: "Today was my birthday. Did I get everything I wanted? Sure, in that I didn't want anything... I made myself two promises at midnight a few minutes ago: one, create a life where a maxi Alhambra necklace materializes like the most natural thing in the world, and next year, wake up, slowly, in Saint-Tropez."