Exert from my yet unfinished book: "The Child That Carried Eternity"

The child within sees more than I do. He has been alive far longer than this moment I call “me.” I move through time one breath at a time, but he carries the full archive — sixty‑five years of weathered memory, unspoken vows, and the geometry of every room we ever survived.

I am only the flicker. He is the continuum.

I get this fleeting moment — this single frame of consciousness — but the child within holds the entire reel. He remembers what my adult mind learned to bury. He remembers the silences, the fractures, the vows whispered in the dark. He remembers the first time I left my body and the long return.

For decades I thought he was the wounded one. Now I understand he was the witness.

I spent a lifetime trying to outgrow him, outrun him, out‑explain him. But he was never behind me. He was beneath me — the foundation, the original observer, the one who carried eternity before I had a name for it.

Only now, this late in the orbit, do I realise the truth:

I am temporary.
He is permanent.
I am the moment.
He is the memory.
I am the man.
He is the soul.