Ever since I remember myself I was fascinated by these little things called letters. Even my first memories at age of 3 or 4 years old include me trying to draw letters. It felt totally magic that those little pieces of drawings on a piece of paper would have their own sound. That they could be combined in so many different ways. That could be structured side by side like an army of soldiers ready for battle. That even their presence there could drive my imagination so far away that nothing else could.
Yes, I was a strange child. I even hated books with drawings or photos. I only loved books full of words and nothing more than that. I did not like anything that could drive my imagination at one specific direction only.
As you can imagine when I was finally able to write full sentences using the basic staff I had learned, I started writing fairy tales. It was a need. I needed to know that I could use the army to create my magic world. That was at about the age of 8 years old.
While growing older I adopted my older brother’s reading habits. I have to mention that he is 10 years older, so when I was 10 he was 20. He was an adult who had long ago started questioning everything and went far beyond of what you can call “children literature”.
To me it was a fascinating new world. Strange, but so much more interesting. I remember reading Dostoyevsky’s “Crime and Punishment” at the age of 12 and Nietzesche “Zaratoustra” at about the same age. The years that followed, until the end of my teen age, my writing became what I can call the process of understanding myself, my relationship with others and all the changes I was going through. It became more experiential and philosophical.
During my college years, since my basic studies involved IT, I used writing as an escape. IT is pure logic and rules that need to be followed to get from A to Z. I felt trapped in a big joke and had to write to save myself. Years after establishing my position and had a steady income I decided to follow my heart. I took a Master in Creative writing and I finally studied something that I honestly enjoyed.
My relationship with this weird thing called writing is my only steady relationship. I am in love with words. I am in love with thoughts that can be translated to words. I am in love with all the imaginative worlds that I can get lost inside.