I will always remember the face of the most beautiful boy born out of the most beautiful woman on the day of your birth. Your mother was mad that I left her to go home and rest because it was five in the morning, and at seven you started to show signs of coming out. Your mother was in so much distress and all I could do was stop and stare, hold her hand, and fight the good fight. And when you came out, you did not cry, you did not even bother entertaining us fools to worry. You were calm and collected. Now you are so proactive and full of life. I could not be more prouder of being your father. Your mother's relationship with me is so sublime and full of life. You at the very deserve part of our own story as much as you deserve yours, which I am going to share with you now. I felt the same exact feeling with her the same exact feeling I had with you when you were born when we met in Alanya. You could say that I could pinpoint the exact moment of when I fell in love with her, when we...
So I was indeed easily caught by my flights of fancy after spiralling out of control. A massive and decisive victory for the unemployed. This journee to France has come to an abrupt end, everything haywire from the get-go. From the fitness side of it and my clearly aging thighs, and airport mishaps coupled with emotional blunders. Nothing had been going my way since the depart, Nantes has been a glorious host to my breakdowns, but also forever tainted by it.
Head spun off a nightmare that never sleeps, tales that never end, whispers that never silence, and in the midst of it all was that reality was even way worse. How do you live off of two fatiguing torments? The simple answer to this is that you do not, or you wish you do not, or you would rather not, or just be blown off the face of the earth. A liar walks by a wooden stick. He picks it up and says, "You'll do fine as a walking cane." So he uses it to soften the blow on his foot, and not sooner than ten seconds, it snaps. He fell dramatically on the stake, impaling him, causing a lot of bleeding, and eventually, death. Now I told you he was a liar, did I, but did he actually lie? Or did the wooden stick lie? But the wooden stick is an inanimate object picked up on the floor randomly. So was it nature? Serendipity? Luck? The folly of man? The unfortunate circumstance of being? What caused his downfall? What is it about descriptive words that make it all seem so easily cate...
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