What's my story?
It's the story of a child, a woman, a wife, a mother, an employee, a friend, a believer, a descendant, an ancestor...
I hope.
It's created from the distillation of the genes of my forebears, mixing and combining over generations to produce me...
randomly or by design?
It's an echo, a reflection of what has been and the first pin-drop reverberations of what is yet to come...
but who makes all the noise?
It's a seed, a ball of potential, waiting to be unlocked by the right environment, the right conditions, the right time...
avoiding the path, the rocks and the weeds.
It's a mystery, a thriller, a romance, a comedy, a how-to, a pocket book of poetry, a study of politics, of science, of philosophy, a joke book...
with really good shoes.
It's just beginning, already unrolling, chapters opening and chapters closing, it's unwritten, predestined, and it's nearing its end.
Oh.
I see what you mean.
I'm fine thanks. How are you?
Still needs work, I think.
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