Now, nearly two decades later, I was in the same place with Jonathan’s daughter, who had just turned twenty, and who was with me not on a journey but a pilgrimage.
Most people assume they are capable of grasping the concepts of a minute, hour, day, week, month, year, decade and even a century, and how their lives are lived and measured in those terms.
“My name is Karoline Conradi Øksnevad,” she said, the words devoid of much inflection. But then, with greater emphasis: “You don’t know me. I am both no one and everyone.”