When I was 14 years old Destiny followed me home from the opticians one day, took advance of my nativity, kissed my imagination with her creative tongue and helped me see that I was meant to be a writer.

Lost in puberty the kiss aroused an urge in me that sprang forth from my very being, and in a desperate need to satisfy this new foreign impulse I picked up a pen for what felt like the very first time, opened the hidden door in my imagination, poured out my soul on the page and found my passion in words.

I was too young to understand what had happened. Destiny had taken my virgin mind and touched it in a way Convention never could, and then she left… left me alone on my bed filled with the messy stained pages of my scribbled emotions.

Seemingly over just as it had started, she left taking her delicate kiss with her, but her scent lingered like a butterfly in the air, and inspiring visions of her drifted through my every moment.

Destiny haunted me everywhere I went constantly painting the world around me in new shades of poetry, forcing me to spill ink in spontaneous unplanned busts of metaphor inspired prose, and bringing out of me untamed written expressions of my soul.

It wasn’t till four years later that I understood what had happened that day. That I realised the gift Destiny had given me, the passion and love she had blessed upon me and the door in my soul she had opened with her kiss.

When I was 14 years old Destiny followed me home from the opticians one day, took advance of my nativity, kissed my imagination with her creative tongue and helped me see that I was meant to be a writer.