When I was born, the uranium rose up the strong tree trunks that kissed the breeze of my very first breath.
I was awakening to a world where I would learn to become a shape shifter and my existence was not to be a common one.
We all travel roads that are rich in experiences. Lessons we could write forever in a unified book of humanity. Compendium of life for all generations to consult as a guide to life, clues left engraved for all to decipher. We are all recipes that evolve as life weaves through time on earth.
When I first opened my eyes, there was peace. A soft breeze blew the voile curtains over my cot; a solid door was kept open enough for me to be heard; and in front of my eyes my mother stood still in time, dressed in her wedding gown, smiling with that wisdom of the solitude she was doomed to experience.
Then people rushed in and soon the room was empty.
This was my first message of life, a message of being stripped off of every root, of every past, of every sense of belonging. From there onwards my life would be a constant fight to belong, a constant abandonment, and new beginnings that were always painful, always strenuous, always filled with sorrow and tears that are just too heavy and too powerful to be set free.
My chest is clogged with farewells never expressed, my name and the memory of the human being I am, floats ghostly in places I will probably never revisit, in minds and hearts of those I have touched and have touched me. Those that have engraved their eternity in the scented wood of my being.
I am. I am not a family history that I am ignorant of. I am not a piece of gruesome clay moulded and shaped by traditions and societal norms and rules.
I severed all habits that could possibly hold me attached to some kind of belonging. I walk a path that is lonely and new.
I was born to be not understood, misunderstood, I was born to be a question mark in all those that cross my path and so the story begins