New Years Eve. I am laying in a tent in a woodland fairytale, the bonfire surrendering its flame to ember. Having kissed my chosen boy at midnight, I have now hooked my limbs around his, a tangle of warmth both physical and emotional, and nestled myself into a plush sleeping bag. It is now that I look back on 2012 as a climber looks down at the mountain just scaled. What heartbreak. What joy. What sorrow. What healing. What change. What maddening repetition. It is with some mad hope that I enter a brand new year. Good evening 2012.