I exist, even if I live more in my head, even if the 4'11½ body, the mediator between realities, reminds me otherwise. Like everything else, I can be both simple and complex, and am comfortable dwelling within the two. Books make me unreasonably independent, writing makes me think too much, words, feel too much, and as such, I'm naturally introverted with inside opinions on too much.
This story begins like everything else, before mavericks plagued Chicago streets, before I was born into an iconoclastic world, and men like Leif Chambers subsisted out of legends. If it weren't for books, there would never have been a fusion of the two.
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