Author Steve Pressfield
I’m so used to the frenetic, accusatory voice in my own head that, each time I cruised cluelessly past a destination into a labyrinth of Third World lanes and alleys, I was waiting for the Girl From Waze to screech, “You idiot! I told you to turn right! Now look what you’ve got us into!”
Instead the Girl continued without judgment or condemnation. “In two hundred meters, turn right…then turn right again.” I liked that.
