Had been thinking about writing again. Don't really know why it all stopped. Maybe it was the transatlantic move. It gave me a chance to reinvent, to omit, to fictionalize.
But mostly it landed me right in the middle of the middle again. That's one of the things I could not really change. Been in no-man's-land since birth.
Should go back to the beginning, perhaps. But what beginning. Forty-two years is a long time. So is nine.
Well, perhaps next incursion back into this world of black and white will dictate how far back to start this tale of living on the line.
¡Hasta la (re)vista!
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