It all started way before my father lost all his hair, when locked up in the bathroom I read my first lines, and to the surprise of us all, my first lines were read with the proficiency of an anchor man.

I was suddendly struck by knowledge in one of those eureka moments: letters made words, words were separated by blanks, comas made sense and dots were endings. Out loud, my mouth couldn’t wait to figure out what this other person had “said”. I wouldn’t go to claim this discovery saved lives, but it prevented my mother from loosing her hair too.

Witnesses of this sudden “miracle” my mother and her friend tailored a plan, and so, they sent me on a journey to the neighbour’s house. In what felt like a couple of hours, but I can’t remember for sure, my neighbour, a bit younger than me, was reading too.

B+A and C+O and C and K+4 and X… why do they want me to know that?! I was simply not digging it, at all, until it made sense, because sense, meaning, is the key to desire.

I ran out of the bathroom that day, with probably a piece of toilet paper still hanging out of my butt, running to tell my parents I had finally understood. I hadn’t learned how to read, but to understand, and that crucial difference is I think how it all began…