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A presentation would surely be interesting, if not to test my own memory. But it feels a bit weird to push forward a story about my own life. Really, I remember that one day I grew up, I became colored and suddenly I was here. The light outside reminds me. Somehow I’ve felt like this since I first opened my eyes and collided with the morning light.

My writing is lying as a background in everything I do.  But recently I noticed that words disappears – they’re walking through me and they’re coming out – into Nowhere land. But the rules are really simple – I need someone to write to, someone who responds with whispering thoughts…