Ride the White Horses

The last thing on earth I ever thought I'd do was to write a book. The reason, obvious to me, was that I had nothing worthwhile to say. I couldn't write about the past because it was obscured by a filter of guilt, the present was irellevant and the future, although ostensibly bright, held little of the security that it was supposed one in my position ought to delight in. My world was rocked when, ...