When I was seventeen, I started keeping a journal. I’ve kept it ever since. The original idea was to track developments in a promising year. It was necessarily a private exercise and has remained so ever since. Lately, though, I’ve realized that I’ve never written purely for myself (if for no one else, I’ve written for future grandchildren), and that there is something strange about filling books with words no one reads. So I’ve decided to start this blog (awful word) to share a bit more. In good conscience, I can’t do otherwise. Whatever light is in me didn’t start with me and isn’t mine to keep.