Prologues are unfathomable to me. How do you introduce a life, an experience, a moment in time with a straight face? They are cumbersome to me because they imply their counterpart: epilogue: the end. There is no end while we still have a pulse to anything that transpires and even that is debatable.. Writing itself, is bizarre. How do you write 300 pages of a life trying to encapsulate the hum drum tediousness of an existence where you barely feel like getting out of bed for? How does one discern the important parts that relieve some magical healing road in which enlightenment begins? I’d rather just say this: I was born, I lived, I’ll die, and I did it in less than 700 characters.