Unable to read today, Ham Sandoval still visited my mind to keep me wondering. I have as scattered a series of thoughts as the boxes of text that tells me who he is. I see his fears, some that no one but Ham could imagine, some that I recognize as that of every man I’ve known. He is grown, he is a boy, he is both within the structure of the story, but as I see him, he is boy even grown, grown as a boy.
How to explain? By context of course. But then, the medium doesn’t work like flipping back pages. I must adjust to the nature of the beast.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
Such a wonderful story of someone trying to find something to unify him. I am not a man/boy, but do find that I myself also relate.
You write your thoughts very well.