My name is Rodrigo Ibarra. I was born beneath autumn’s breath, on October 7th. It’s been scarcely a month since I turned 22, and somehow I’ve been feeling much younger.
I wasn’t much of a reader in the early chapters of my life.
But one night, something dawned on me: a precious gift. I began to write. It may not be remarkable, yet deep rivers run quiet. And somehow, I grasped that I was merely existing. Just like Thoreau, I wanted to live deliberately, to suck out all the marrow of life. For a while, I fought against the waves and doubts of life. But I managed to see the sun in its full splendor; I rose to the surface from the very depths and recovered who I was.
Since then, I have been seeking freedom and broadening my perspective.
To me, writing is pouring your heart into words, capturing what others might not see or feel: the odysseys or experiences that shape who you are, or who you are becoming. I believe we are the potters of our own clay.
Ultimately, I determined to open a library of my own: my shelf, my writings and the quotes I’ve gathered along the way. A collection of thoughts, books, places and chapters of my life.
And here’s only the prologue.