The hand that rocks the cradle

 

I was born on a stormy summer night… a Thursday in January at ten past ten. From a tender age I showed an irresistible attraction towards all kinds of autonomously existing organic entities, so that my leisure time passed placidly in the observation of assorted vermin while they crawled, slobbered or digged holes in the ground, whereas my coevals strived to excel in the noble art of kicking a ball.

A combination of this sick interest for the beasts of the Earth and an ability for observation and controversy occasionally bordering on absurdity, prompted, on the one hand, that I inevitably set my life on a path toward Science, and on the other, my surrender to the charms of  Literature as  a way of escape to parallel universes. The devotion of my existence to unveil the best kept secrets of the natural world motivated my arrival to the estuary of river Fal, where I endeavour to achieve academic excellence through the hypothetico-deductive method. Meanwhile, my passion for written word encouraged me to set this minuscule virtual espace up in the network of networks as a platform to render berth to my pontifications about the Divine and the Human.



One Response to The hand that rocks the cradle

  1. Alfredo says:

    I really want the same drugs you’re having! :)))

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