I’m writing a story. A novel. A book. A thing that won’t go away. A story that must be told.
I have a question of you.
What would you think of a book that begins?
Perhaps there is no story more difficult to tell than the one that changes all. Such a story gains its own life and becomes more than it was. Each person who is touched by the story adds their own part to the narrative, forever changing it and sending to places it has never been.
How to tell such a story?
You can’t, because once you tell it, you change – you become part of the narrative as the story bends slowly to you. The story is transient, ephemeral, ever decaying and ever growing.
The author of this tale is both you and I. It is told the way my children will learn about my life – in fragments, images, and with the ever evolving re-understanding of my past. It is a story reflected in a shattered crystal, multifaceted, fragmented, and yet a reminder that perfection once existed.
Would you turn to chapter one?