A BIG BOOK OF MY OWN, Prologue

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PROLOGUE, A Big Book of My Own


PROLOGUE, A Big Book of My Own

These are the facts, nothing here but the facts. I was on the road to Damascus via a street in the West Village in New York City, when, in an instant, barometric pressure had dropped 100 MB. Darkness enveloped an eleven-o'clock-morning sun. It may have been a trick of the mind, or some kind of serious panic disorder. I was blind. Yet, although I could no longer physically see, I pictured myself a child on a visit to my great grandmother's house in La Salle, Illinois. In my head I felt as though a tornado was approaching. By the time I had reached the storm-cellar doors and stepped beneath into the center of a crawl space, sirens were screaming! Fear and humidity had had me soaked to the bone.