Everyday there is a story. We hear of the children who die along the way, and now we are hearing the stories of those who have survived horrible things done to them in the name of love, by loved ones, trusted ones. Somehow, for most, there is a sense of personal responsibility. blame or self-hatred seems to filter into these lives. I hated my life for many years. It was simple, I could pretend it never happened. Our memories don't have to be the way we live, right? After many years, and many attempts, I decided it was enough. I had seen enough of my childhood bleeding into my work, and I needed to silence the ghosts of the past. A story that came out in my writings while teaching in Daegu, South Korea. After letting the work lay silent for about six months, I went through the painful task of editing and reshaping what I could no longer ignore. It is non-fiction, told from the perspective of a reader who reads the work rendered. The "Magic Book" referred to is very real, where portions...

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