The day I met Dante, I could hardly classify as a positive 24 hours. Not negative either, but without a doubt; definitive. Because from the moment I met that man, my life has had very little to do without him. My life became his whether he wanted it or not, whether I wanted to loose it or not. It became a state of affairs, myself relying on his hands, enclosing my life, shielding my existence so that I could carry on beating quietly in his dark palms. And all the while I regret the day he walked into my life. And there is a large part of me, that knows he regrets it too – because now I'm bound to him; if I want to stay alive that is. Like a parasite on the underbelly of a predator.

But that's the way things are now for me. You probably wonder, as well as myself, why one day you just wake up and things are chaining you, pinning you down with crushing weight, pushing you under. And we always act so coy, so surprised to be entangled, even though those binds have been slowly growing over time, we just choose as humans to not notice them. We rely on people like Dante to sever those chains before we ever have to notice them. People are so damned reluctant to accept the world beneath our polished nine to five utopia.

I wish I still had the luxury to be stubborn and ignore/explain/pray all the 'bumps-in-the-night' away.

I sound ungrateful. But please believe that I'm not an ingrate in the slightest. Dante was my salvation, an explanation in a very confusing place and without a doubt I would be long dead without his intervention.

So, until this point in time, I have a lot of explaining to do, so I'll get right to it and paint a picture of my gray, beautifully simple world – before it caught fire.