In the year 2013, I stood at the top, the tipping point of a precipice located somewhere remote, almost from world contact but for the cyberspace that connects.
Almost sloughing off self, almost falling off, I stood giddy from stress and lack of sleep and weak from hunger, protracted. Below is a dagger eagerly waiting for the jugular and behind is a team of aggressors, ready to reach out and push, slowly approaching.

Where did I come from; how did I get here in the first place? Had I dropped off the back of a flying (and dying) bird? Maybe it was that I escaped the crash of an aircraft. Or could it be that I was born here…right here on this precipice, never been anywhere else and without a plan to be anywhere else? Something tells me it was my mother, (aside) the best in the world, who blew me here to safety, with the wind, from the reckless claws of those zombies, who killed baby boys in our ancestors’ time.

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