The irony is not lost on me. In 2020, the world stopped spinning. We were locked in our London flat, drowning in screens, sanitizer, and statistics. By early 2021, the walls felt like they were closing in. Elena suggested the trip—a month-long charter around the Fiji archipelago. It was supposed to be a "digital detox," a way to reclaim agency over our lives.
Here is what we had:
The first few days were a blur of adrenaline and sun-scorched logistics. We dragged what remained of our supplies onto a crescent of white sand that looked like a postcard and felt like an oven. In 2021, our biggest stressors had been spotty Wi-Fi and sourdough starters; suddenly, the stakes were the structural integrity of a driftwood lean-to and the terrifying math of three gallons of fresh water. my wife and i shipwrecked on a desert island 2021