I am an unapologetic and unabashed fan of Taylor Swift and her music. Before she became a global pop icon, she was a 16-year-old country singer-songwriter that wrote about her heartbreaks and some guy named Drew.
A few years ago, I ran a 5k called the Color Run, where runners were doused from head to toe with an a rainbow of colored powders in the tradition of the Holi Festival that is celebrated in India every spring.
“Fuck!” Instinctively, I look down at my watch to check for my heart rate. It’s pumping at 164 BPM. This is a bad idea.
They say there’s two things you can do in Tokyo. Buy used underwear from a vending machine and visit the famous Tsukiji fish market.