Does it really take courage to discuss what we are afraid of, or maybe even ashamed of?I am long past this question. Now, when I write, I mainly seek to discover more of my layers, to raise my level of consciousness, to help others and myself. I don’t see the red flags, I don’t hear the warnings, and I don’t care about the land mines that could explode under my feet. I simply ambush myself, and then I charge at it and peel off my skins until I am completely naked on paper. That’s when I...

Does it really take courage to discuss what we are afraid of, or maybe even ashamed of?I am long past this question. Now, when I write, I mainly seek to discover more of my layers, to raise my level of consciousness, to help others and myself. I don’t see the red flags, I don’t hear the warnings, and I don’t care about the land mines that could explode under my feet. I simply ambush myself, and then I charge at it and peel off my skins until I am completely naked on paper. That’s when I become both the voyeur and the exhibitionist; the banquet and its host. And every time a bomb blows up in my face I feel ecstatic, because then I will be able to gift pieces of my own flesh to the readers. Those pieces are my truths, my words, my humble gifts to you in this book....and they are also my traps.