“It was a moist day in the Devil’s armpit that is Delaware today. Like a sauna, but not a nice Swedish sauna made out of pine where you can sit and have a nice chat with Sven about a delightful exhibition you viewed at a Stockholm Art Institute; more like a sauna at the Y that smells like stale sweat and testosterone and has a giga-chad sitting there who won’t shut up about his gains. It is Hell out there and Satan always sets the thermostat at 110. You can literally drink the air. I am sweating in places that God never wanted me to know about. The focus of the day was not collapsing from heat exhaustion. All activities ran as normal.”