It has been a difficult process, picking up the threads of a broken stream of thought. This illness got the better of me and I kind of lost my way. But the thoughts never left me - rather, they haunted my mind like the soul of an ancient ghost trying to find the life it used to inhabit. So I am at a strange place, forcing myself to look at words I can't remember writing. This patchwork quilt I created long ago.
I realise now that I must write and forget that I may not finish the tale. It's the only way to exist... for me, anyway...
Life beneath the pen!
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