My own story, in my own time. I thinking if I do that, maybe I can find the lost roads. I thinking, finally somebody will hear me out proper. I wanted to do it. I wanted to tell you everything I could. But always remember, it was you, Mr Writer Man. It was you that promised to be patient, to listen to my story in its own order. So why now that I doing just that, you have started to frown? Why now that I is here, in your house, telling you how it really happen, you have started to change up my words as if it was ever your story to change.