We like birthdays because they behave. They sit on the calendar like obedient little fences: before this day you are “a child,” after this day you are “an adult,” and the world can stop thinking too hard. Paperwork smiles. Parents exhale. Governments file you into a drawer. Even you can point to the number and say, “There. That’s the moment I became something different.” It is a comforting story. It … Read the rest
