When I lost my son three years ago, the excruciating agony shooting through my body was the worst I’ve ever known. It was hurting like hell. No amount of human power could ease the unbearable pain I was going through moment by moment. I almost lost all the capability to feel and to think and writing was the only task I can manage that does not require anything I can’t. I’ve known it since young. Writing when life was difficult had been my way of life and an automatic thing for me.
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