the book

If reading a story to pass the time were as simple as sitting in an old rocking chair, by an open window on a summer afternoon. with the warm draft through a mesh screen perhaps a favourite finger snack. perhaps a chubby long haired feline, purring on the dusty woven matt. if reading a story to pass the time were that simple than i would never have come to be writing a novel such as the one u hold in your hands. you see, a story can lead in many directions, all at once. thats how storys are formed, with direction and direction is the very thing I had been lacking on that warm summer day.