ravings, rantings and ramblings
He was my hero. He didn’t wear a red cape, neither did he have any celluloid escapades. He was just a normal man and yet my hero. Probably because we were bound biologically. He brought me in here. I saw everything the way he showed it to me. I would smile at him for all his efforts. He would sing to me. Tell me stories on cold winter mornings. When he would scoop me up in the air, I would wriggle in excitement. Only he could have done that. He was always with me – behind me as I would climb into old monuments, behind my bicycle – everywhere. He had big biceps, he did. I used to hang from his arm and think ‘just how powerful is he!’ Watching the world walk past me as I sat on his shoulders, I felt invincible. He was the tallest. Strongest. Biggest. And then, I grew up. It wasn’t his fault.