In the Beginning

Once upon a time, I wrote. Spun tales, mock idiosyncrasies. And there was joy in the world, I felt human.

Then life has a knack of making one forget, pandemonium broke loose. Life went up and down, down to the deepest caverns beyond light’s reach. Where layers after layers get stripped off and you don’t know what you’re left with. All around there was only sorrow.

At the bottom, the only way is back up.

So I write as a memento mori - to remember the face of my father, and in memory of a comrade who left tragically. I write to remember who I was, who I am and who I will be.

I write, therefore I shall live.