The Only Bad Days As A Writer

I Was Carrying Two Cargoes. Yes, One Of Them Was Horror, But The Other One Was Hope.

When I Reached Fort Binjemma, For Example, Where My Grandfather Was Stationed For A While, The Whole Victorian Fort Was Decaying. Barbed Wire Surrounded It, Spray Paint On The Ancient Walls Claimed It As Private Property, And The Moat Where My Grandfather And His Men Had Grown Crops - In Desperation As The Siege's Hunger Bit - Was Completely Overgrown With Bushes And Trees.

That Is How We Lived, Happily And Without Hope. I Was Very Young Then, And I Did Not Miss Having A Future Because I Did Not Know I Was Entitled To One.

At Some Point You Just Have To Turn Around And Face Your Life Head On.

And Thus Love Makes Fools Of Us All.