Meet the face
behind the BOOK

In the tapestry of my odyssey, I found myself entwined in a battle with the shadows of imposter syndrome, a spectral companion casting doubts upon my very being. This ethereal foe led me through a labyrinth of trials, from skirmishes with timeliness and sartorial standards to the arts of self-nurturance and fortifying belief. Amidst the tempest, I grappled with heeding the calls of authority, weaving threads of constancy, orchestrating the symphony of tasks, taming the coin's dance, seeking refuge in vocations, pursuing the scribes of knowledge, honing the gaze, and embracing the art of attentive presence.

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In the realm of cognition, I once wandered, unaware of the intricate melodies my mind composed, diverging from the symphonies of neurotypical souls. At first, I dwelt in the illusion that all traversed similar labyrinths, deeming these nuances inconsequential to my essence. My gaze lingered upon a belief that if others grasped certain enigmas effortlessly, my attention need not stray towards them, as if we were threads woven into a seamless tapestry. Hesitant to clutter my thoughts with notions susceptible to external tempests, I sought a sanctuary of receptivity, a canvas unmarred by preconceptions, ready to birth untold wonders and visions anew.