I grew up feeling like my life would follow the same path as other people – work and you shall achieve, be and you shall receive. It baffled me when I was attacked or called entitled for this, when the boys I knew, weren’t. I wrote about this often. I…
I’m forty this year. I asked myself if my life was a work of art?
Writing was my catharsis, till it became my crutch. A paper plane showed me the way out.
Games are just stories we feel we can script. Simulations of a life we can win. Algorithms we run, hoping for a different outcome.
Please don’t ask me to read you. I’ve spent far too long looking deep into other people.