You can think of this as the discarded plaything of a child, a worn out pacifier or a shelved away remembrance of the past.
Most of the posts have been deleted. A mere few years ago, I thought that the “folly of youth” is a quaint warning by old men, their wagging fingers disapproving. In this present moment, I have become one of those old men, regretting the deeds in those times. I excuse my poorer writings on being drunk on the ecstasy of adolescence, on the illusion of invincibility and the exhilaration that stems from little else but the novelty of everything.
The more sober posts, are the only ones left. The dregs of my youth perhaps.
