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What is a life well lived? A big question, and one I am presently pondering from a prone position, naked but for my underpants, which have been lowered on one side to liberate my left bum cheek. Or glute, as the BMI monitors call it, unromantically. I am posed diagonally across an expertly made bed, inert as if poleaxed. Seen from above, I imagine I resemble a crime-scene corpse in a cheap film noir. Is this a case of death by misadventure? An accidental overdose? Or do we suspect foul…
