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Oh I am just me, simple and complex, smart and stupid. I think of everything and all matters to me other than the things that do not. I am fifty now. This comes as a surprise to me as I am shocked that I even reached my thirties. I went through my younger years smoking too much, drinking to much generally everything too much. Then my children came along and I calmed down somewhat, put all my energy into my work and earning money for my family. Later I started writing and that was I think not really a good thing for me. It took me back to my teens and thinking about things, wondering about things and analysing those same things. I fell in love with another woman, one I had talked to on the net and it sundered my marriage to my children’s mother, something I still feel sorry about but something that I suppose was inevitable in its own way. I have two children, a boy and a girl(a gentleman’s family so they say)who are independent. My daughter works in the health service and my son is still at university doing politics. I am an avid reader as well as a writer. I am a thinker and thoughtful. I have no main theme when I am writing , I just write.

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