Did you ever ask why people's memories are so short lived? Is it because we all want to live on, forget pain and trouble? But why? Is it inherited from our ancestors, who had to fight every second to survive? But what does survival mean, if we are not able to sort out the experience of fear and danger, the fear that our life might come to an end even before we have found out what it is about? Are we really so impertinent to believe that we are the ultimate credo of creation? Pity on those who believe so, because their life will be one of self-doubt, of sadness, of despair, once they have realized that, no matter what they do, history is only a moment in time, so independent from their struggle. A blink of an eye. The old Gods who have accompanied us through times, where are they? Are we searching for them or are we just merely following traditions? There are so many books to be written. In fact, so many books have been written.
In my first book, Hexe, I have tried to search for answers to all these questions. No, I haven't found answers, but ideas to keep on writing in search for answers. Isn't that what we all do? Trying to find answers to all the passions of our hearts, our secrets. I will write on, it is my passion. No regard to whether I sell or not (even though I could do with the money :))
