The Ticking of the Phoenix Fire (Prologue)People say you can read someone like a book, as if paper pages take our soul and compress it into something flat yet so tear-able. Like the ink that is spread across the page could begin to spill secrets that we do our upmost to hide from humanity. Each section glued together as if our very essence is formed and presented to anyone whom wishes to either glance through, or deeply analysis its delicate sheets.
I used to describe myself as a book that has been torn in places, and parts were scattered across the chapters. Some paragraphs make sense others didn't. Lines missing and words rubbed out. So the story was not complete, so people make assumption to fill in the blanks and create their own version of the story. Blurring lies and truths of myself.
I find I'm good at reading people, breaking down their complexities, looking through their individual chapters. Some have long winding stories to tell full of adventure and wisdom, while others only short as they limit themselves