About the author

Some people said he’s cynical and histrionic; some said he’s just faking it.

Some claimed that he’s an ignorant fat bastard cheating his way through life, but a few believed that there’s still a sensitive heart underneath all those layers of adipose tissue.

At night, he’d lay in bed listening to the deafening sound of silence before he slowly twirled into dreams.  Sometimes, he’d wonder if he could ever stop making lemonade out of those crates after crates of lemons life gave him.

But sometimes, when the moon is bright and the mood is right, he’d let his imagination wander… skipping along those hidden passageways into his mind… one keystroke at a time.