Okay, so I’m sitting in this little corner cafe, the one with the slightly wobbly wooden tables and the barista who remembers your usual after two visits. It’s that weird limbo hour between the lunch rush and the pre-dinner crowd. My laptop is open, a half-finished oat milk latte going cold beside it. I was supposed to be planning my friend’s birthday trip—flights, accommodations, the whole shebang—but my brain just… noped out. Tabs upon tabs of booking sites and review pages, a chaotic mess of numbers and dates that made my eyes glaze over. Then I remembered this thing my friend Sam, who’s a freelance photographer, mentioned last week. He…