Uncoiling, undoing, unmistakable..
I certainly have written here and there, but mostly for work, it's the type of writing that has no appeal and personal touch - as these are usually dry reports. Data, dry tidbits of information with no delicacy or special texture, the kind that may be nutritious and nourishing but you wouldn't want to have again unless you are absolutely out of option.
Admittedly, I am a little rusty and perhaps even a little out of touch with this whole business of blogging - Who blogs in 2022 anyway? This is the age of Tik Tok and Instagram stories. But it's OK, my intention is different, far from seeking attention or feeding the valley of short attention spans, I am here to make sense of things.
My younger brother, who also became a close friend later in life, had his life cut short. To those unaffected, his death is but a number in the barrage of statistics at the height of the pandemic - not to me obviously. I've been stung, and I can't sit still - this sting has developed into an itchy rash. It has shaken my notions of what's ordinary - extraordinary, how I see life & naturally, Death.
