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Foreword

I decided to write for myself during a pitch black night while camping on an obscure Thai beach. As my laptop brilliantly lit up my tent, I imagined working on incredible heart-rending fantastical tales that will change the world. I had an Everest’s worth of ideas that were begging to be given form and substance.

Instead I opened my diary, flipped to the point just before I started this trip and began editing my notes into something readable.

My diary is a loose collection of thoughts and events that I’ve been jotting down ever since… well, ever since a long time ago. I never did anything much with those notes. Somehow I was busy with something else or I was too tired.

No, that’s not the truth. I’m just a lazy slug.

I paused after editing for half an hour. My eyes were dry. I blinked and tears dripped from them. It’s true what they say: ‘The brighter the light, the darker the shadow.’ The contrast between the beach’s lightless black and my glaring laptop screen wrecked havoc on my eyes.

I didn’t know why I was editing my notes. It’s like answering really hard questions such as “Why are you traveling?”, “If god is good, why the hell are there mosquitoes?” I should have been writing Shakespearean works of fiction! It’ll be easier to explain it.

 Bugger it.

A magical blot out of the blue sky will hit me and I’ll suddenly elucidate like Buddha. In the meantime, I can only slog to make sense of these notes. I could hear soft pine cones drip-dropping around my tent and throttley Squid boats out in the open sea. I shouldn’t be able to hear the boats. They’re too far away. Nevertheless I could hear them. My tent faced the sea and I saw ghostly green lights evenly spaced on the horizon. The boats light them above the disturbed sea to call squid to them. By midnight, the boat’s green lights would wink out and they’ll putter home to wives and children.

I’ll miss seeing those green lights holding steady on the dark horizon.

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