"Life doesn't get more real than having a newborn at home."
-Eric Church (Singer-songwriter)

On Sunday, March 29th 1992, I was born in Centre Hospitalier in Calais, as Linguini Andrew Williams, my first name being derived from my mother's father, and my middle name taken from my father's brother. As experience will tell you, I have absolutely no recollection of the earlier years of my life, from the ages of nought to two, and this presents somewhat of an early problem.

In the effort to try and document my life, I am prone to run into some trouble, some inconvenience, and in only the second chapter I had come across such a problem. I am a man who thrives to always document events or happenings in their utmost details, and missing out such important stage of my life appears to be quite the hindrance to possibly explaining how I am today, since perhaps something might have happened in these early years which would have sent me on the course to where I am today, typing out these very words, or to the point of you or my future self reading these words.

But there is one obvious source that I may find myself relying on, even in the forthcoming chapters: my parents, who had informed me of the time before my birth. And thankfully, there is somewhat of an intriguing tale to divulge in, in which I have been meaning to address. And while it's not exactly a pleasant tale, it is one I hold very dear to my heart - especially considering how it is the earliest incident of my life that I am aware of.

However, before we delve into this subject, please be aware that this kind of thing is very sensitive to me, and that I have never shared it before, at least to the magnitude of sharing my thoughts and feelings over this matter. I do not wish for any sympathy or empathy, but I do hope you take this matter seriously, as you may soon understand why I struggle with a case such as this, or anything of a similar nature.