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For years, the most prominent character in the stories, I would tell or write, was my sister. A daredevil, I’d say, so much so, that over the years her acceptance of the role she plays in my stories, was nothing short of a complacency. And although only younger on paper, in life, especially when I needed her the most, she became my wise advisor, the older sibling, and a trusted shoulder I can cry on. I call her Roger.

As time went on, Roger and I lived together, then lived apart, and again for a short period of time, we shared an apartment. Her approach to life, much unlike mine, is methodical, practical even. What’s more, she’d be the first one to dare me to share the stories I write.

Over time, I began to tell stories about Roger’s and my adventures to pass time, make someone smile, to deal with social anxiety, and anxiety overall. It made me feel safe in situations I would otherwise be out of place. And so, with each story told, the number of characters grew. Some stories turned out funny, others despicably sad. But I witnessed how each one of them brought inevitable joy to friends and occasional strangers I would tell those stories to.

At last, with one last push by those who hold me dear, I decided to write down all those stories and share them here. Instead of doing my best to fit the latest anecdotes and bleak chronicles into the messages to my friends, why not give them a name and call them the Adventures?

And that is how the idea for adventures was born. All of the adventures, without exception, are told in order. You won’t feel like that statement is true at times, but bear with me, the proverbial light shining at the end of the tunnel will, most likely, guide you through. I guess Linda would know that the best – you’ll get to meet her later on.

For now, let’s start at the beginning, the time when I was learning The Art of Living Indoors.

Fair warning: I like my introductions long.



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