Walking from the Giralda in Seville to the old Alcazar palace, it is hot. My body isn’t used to the heat after the grey, mild London summer. The summer that felt tropical after the months of unusual snow and usual sleet and hail, the summer after we got married. The summer I decided I will never work events and a pay check doesn’t compensate for some things. The summer that went too quickly in a fast-tracked, winding path of stress and questions and self-doubt despite my best intentions.