My name is Henry, but that’s not important.

I am someone who observes from outside. Someone who listens intently, and thinks deeply.

I am usually silent. I don’t like to hear myself speak. But writing is different, so I decided to use this medium to share intermittent thoughts on my reality. They are of little worth, of course, but I found that I needed a place to put them.

This is that place.

It is a place of thoughts and impressions. It is also a deposit for musings, ideas, and pieces of my soul. It is a kind of window. But mostly, and like all things bounded within human knowledge, it is a story. A cold story, that has its hidden moments of warmth. It is barbed, broken, and fundamentally incomplete. I hope it will remain so always.  

Welcome to one small piece of this thing we all observe.