So, I'm back. A lot older, a bit wiser. Very hungry to write again.
Writing is like being a marathon runner after all. Sometimes you get injured, sometimes you fall out of love for the endeavour, or sometimes you have more pressing responsibilities.
Eventually though, you miss the thrill of it, and you return to the thing that is the hardest. It is part of who you are and as important as a lung or a heart. You realise that you don't truly live without it.
There's more to this story though (of course there is - would you want it any other way?). I'll divulge more when it's appropriate. And like returning to a birthplace, I'll renew those threads of brotherhood and sisterhood along the way, revisiting memories and promises not yet fulfilled.
What can I offer then, but tygers here by the word-full? I'll show you horizons of horror and wonder.
Oh, and some muskets and the odd monster or two...
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