Memoirs from Home
18 Apr 2006
It was a sunny day. I was flying, flying, high above in the air, soaring above my wildest dreams, passions and ambitions. Where am I? What am I to say? Where can I go? I strained my eyes, I saw no one. I had a special trait. I could read other people's minds as effortlessly as an eagle cruising through the breeze. It was not only that. I also knew the power of prayer.
What to say, it's exuberance at best.
It's good to be back home.
