The Illustrated Man - Ray Bradbury "He was a big man. Massive. And every inch of him illustrated. When his flesh twitched the colours burned in three dimensions." I can't quite remember where I bought this book from. But I know it has been sitting at the top of my shelf, among the collection of about 30 books in my room. It was worn around the edges and had a creased cover. I decided to pick it up and read. The title read 'The Illustrated Man' by Ray Bradbury. Now, I know someone out there is reading this with a smile. A smile because you understand the joy that came from reading such a compelling collection of short stories, delivered masterfully and painted vivid pictures in our imaginations that lingered long after you closed your eyes at night. There are very few books which grab the reader by the throat and does not let go until the end of the book. The story is about a protagonist wanderer who meets The Illustrated Man, another wanderer. The man is covered in tattoos. The tattoos, or 'illustrations' as Bradbury beautifully puts it, however, come alive at night and each tell a different story. The tattoos, designed by a witch who came from the future. He explains how he wants to kill her for cursing him with the illustrations... The theme of the book is mostly sci-fi/fantasy with a hint of horror. A hint may be an understatement actually. Most of the stories have quite a dark agenda, especially the first story called The Veldt – which is probably one of my favourites. I warmly recommend anyone to read it.

Build If opportunity doesn't come knocking, build a door.

Ooh Burn Dear NASA, Your mum thought I was big enough. Sincerely, Pluto.

You see, the thing about writing, there is a constant fear that I will never achieve much. That I will work my whole #life at this craft and nothing will ever come of it. That I will die on a scrap heap of broken dreams. My mouth filled with the bitter ash of failure. In all honesty, I am really afraid of failing, it's only natural. But I am equally afraid of success.

Reminisce Have you ever had a deep sense of nostalgia that suddenly felt like a tsunami wave crashing against the forefront of your cognisance? Those memories that unexpectedly sucker punch you. In reality, the weight of the punch feels like a train hitting your body at 200 mph. And in your imagination, it is several destructive tsunami waves, a bigger train, a volcano erupting, an earthquake of great magnitude and possibly the Apocalypse itself. The pain from, the memory, ripping open the old butterfly stitched wound is unbearable. It creates internal chaos. It is all you can think about, it requires all your attention. You cannot function. It dominates and overwhelms every aspect of your #life. It suffocates your spirit. The funny thing is though, after a while, you start to like the pain. Like peeling an old scab, you gather a sense of pleasure from reminiscing. Suddenly, the memory is comfortable, you grow accustomed to it. You realise the pain is a reminder to keep remembering. That you musn't forget. The pain, who was once a sworn enemy, is now a dear friend. A skeptical protagonist who now believes. An old love rekindled through young eyes. "They say 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.”