Saturday, January 1, 1972

I used to believe all human life was sacred. It’s a strange thing to believe, because there are far too many of us inhabiting the planet, and even though I value the lives of those around me, I know they can die at any moment. It’s the main reason why I try to stay alive, if only to keep them company.

I’ve made many vows in my life, growing up on my knees with my hands clasped at my bedside. I promised to never kill, lie, cheat, steal, or sin in any shape or form. Generally speaking, my obedience rewarded me with a simple life in the countryside, with enough food and shelter to go around for passing visitors and distant family members. Sunday masses, Catholic school, family dinners and, when I was lucky, private time to practice painting. I could spend hours sitting in front of my father’s easel, sketching with his leftover graphites before painting over it with his favorite acrylics.

He died in the war, and my mother couldn’t raise us alone. After calling our family friend over to stay for a while, I became his student. He taught me everything my father couldn’t, strictly in church, where

he baptized me as my official Godfather.

If I named every vague happy memory I had left, I could tell you I had a beautiful childhood. Perhaps there’s a lifetime in which I became a priest, or graduated college. My Godfather made me swear my loyalty to him, and follow in his footsteps toward the kingdom of heaven, and I’m sure I would’ve followed through if I kept my head down.

I decided to change my future on the snowy night I fled my hometown in a stolen car. The drive was long, my eyes were tired from crying. As the only driver on the road, I had no reason to pull over and rub my face raw of emotion. I only had two goals: find a new place to stay, and do everything I could to forget what led me here. I didn’t know which task would be harder.

It was New Year’s Eve, and if I hadn’t been in such a hurry I might’ve stopped at a motel. I’d crossed the border into a city I’d never heard of, where the lights were blinding and the jazz music played on a loop. The social nightlife was something I’d never experimented with, but I found myself grateful no one looked like a potential threat- possibly even too drunk on champagne to even care about robbing