I grew up not knowing I was starving.
All my life, I’ve found myself in fantasy. My earliest memories are of the Shire and the riddle game, the Lonely Mountain and the Fellowship’s desperate flight to Moria. I remember how my mind changed and grew when I read Rand al’Thor feed his unquiet thoughts to the Flame and the Void. As a teenager I read The House of the Scorpion to pieces, languishing in the injustice inherent in the life of a clone grown for his organs, taking solace that at least my life was not his. But for far too long, I was missing a piece of the puzzle.