Yesterday was December 13. While getting a shave, I found myself thinking. The barber’s chair is a strange place. One of the rare spaces where a person knowingly becomes defenseless. I lean my head slightly back. My eyes are half-closed. I willingly place my throat under the blade held by another person. We don’t do this anywhere else. Our instincts wouldn’t allow it. But in the barber’s chair, that instinct is temporarily silenced. .................