I guess a lot of people see themselves as dreamers. As do I. I never really stopped doing that – and it has evolved with me, since an early age. Perhaps even filled up too much of my mental space. Yet, it kinda defines me – because they affect my every day. I hear voices in my head. Storytellers, really. My job? To pass on the adventures. From an early age I’ve helped build an maintain the world, which was first created by my dreams. It’s been build from the ground and up – it’s the world of Afaresshil, and in that one is a tale, I just have to share with people. It’s the story of the Magic Maniac, and how he lived his life.

I love nature just as much as I love the concept of being invisible in a city. Like: You go through a street and everyone disregards or ignores you. It’s just the most welcome, yet strange feeling, knowing they have their own stories going on, yet also knowing they don’t involve you. Even if they could, or even might at some later time. It’s some special kind of relief, knowing you don’t have to fit in with everyone. That you can live life in your own pace, only affect so many with your words. This might be an attempt to reach out, yeah, but let’s be real. It’s also an attempt to reach myself. To put into words my daily struggles, so that I might return and read them again at a later time. If you feel like joining, I would be so happy. I write for me, but I most certainly write for you as well!