This is the story of my fantastical life. Whether these things are true, invented, exaggerated or not, you, my friend, will have to judge for yourself.
Can you recall your earliest memory? Mine is earlier than most, while I was still a baby in a basket, left on the sidewalk with a blanket tucked around me.
The first thing I remember was an unfathomable wind, violently chopping through the air above me, throwing up dust into my tiny, squinting eyes, and so loud that it overwhelmed all my senses.
Now, in adulthood, I of course know that the fury that filled the air that day was my salvation, those powerful gusts marking the arrival of a helicopter carrying my rescuer, a soldier who picked up my basket and took me to safety.
I stared up at his masked eyes, his dark clothes silhouetted in the raging sky. His hands, in worn green gloves, reached down to me.
Once onboard the helicopter, I knew that I was no longer alone. There were others seated around, but no one spoke. My rescuer did though, he looked down at me and babbled, with a strange look of compassion on an otherwise hardened face. Obviously, I couldn’t comprehend even a word of what he said, but still, it somehow brought me a moment of warmth.
That, my friend, is where my first memory ends, a strange prelude to a remarkable story.