Many events stormed my dream last night, making me sometimes awake sometimes asleep. They looked very real, and out of the noise and hubbub there appeared laymen and women. Busy at the street, they are shouting, screaming, laughing or simply walking. But all of them were ordinary people, who wanted nothing but to live. They are people, who do not belong to the “anti-people” social class. They share the same dismay, melancholy, agony and hopes. I identify myself with them.
I woke up with vivid images about those people who lived in my memory. And, I decided to write about them.
“No centaurs here or gorgons look to find
My subject is of man and mankind”
I will talk about them by using the first person singular. Every story will have a hero, my hero. I will embody that hero. That character may be drunk, but those who wronged him are alcoholics. He can be a beggar aggrieved by aristocrats. He can be a killer but wronged by murderers.
This will be the beginning of “Stories of insignificant souls”.