I flew to Halifax to begin the tour. Flying is not something I enjoy. I understand that the airplane is statistically safe, which is comforting information right up until the doors close and a hundred tonnes of metal begin racing to the sky. This flight was not so bad. Toronto to Halifax is only two hours. I was also pleased Air Canada has some planes with seats that do not recline. It meant the person in front of me could not suddenly tip backward and begin occupying territory formerly known as my knees.

Everyone remained upright inside the small territory assigned to them. We had very little freedom, but it was equally distributed. I knew exactly how much space I did not have. There was something reassuring about this fixed limitation. I did not need comfort. I needed certainty. For two hours, I could tolerate the narrow seat, the dry air and the mysterious sounds coming from beneath my feet. Then we landed in Halifax, where the tour would begin on the ground, the surface upon which I prefer music, travel and most of my existential crises to occur.