I wrote this essay when I was in my 30’s. This is as much I can reveal about my age as a woman’s vanity will permit.

Writing generates the excesses of emotions that sustain life. Writing unifies. And to write better, I learnt that I had to read more. So, in the summer of 2014 I went on a book reading binge. I read irrationally.

When I fell asleep on books, I dreamt heavily. Like any child, I have been taught to avoid being presumptuous. So, the absurdity and the gall of a recurrent dream prompts me to write it down. In that, I see myself walk to the stage and read a prepared speech.

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December 10th, 2044.

Stockholm City Hall, Sweden. 

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