Isn’t a resolution a prime example of how something life-affirming can be built from recognising opportunities lost or missteps taken?

When I was moving, I took the opportunity to go through The Box – a container for paperwork I’ve ferried from home to home since I was 18. Any time I received something important, it’d go in the box (and often never be seen again).

It was strange sitting among the papers – seeing my wayward life as told through bureaucracy. There was my degree certificate; a dole approval letter; a lease from a lawless flat where I once looked out the window to see police abseiling down; a pleading letter I’d written to the council when we’d been served an eviction notice; and fines from minor scrapes with law and order. But there were also poems, love letters, stories (and even a clipping from work experience at this newspaper).

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