My first week in Koh Samui was something out of a romantic novel.
Except it wasn’t a novel, it was an autobiography – you know, something that sounds a little bit like the one I’m forty-thousand words deep into writing.
It’s a story about a woman who went from living her dream, to living her nightmare.
A story of stars colliding into one another; a trillion serendipitous moments that on their own just looked like tiny coincidences, but as the story unfolds, every star emanates in the form of a character, a glance, a smile, a word uttered, a move made, a feeling felt and they all play a pivotal role in the clever little script that is her life.
It’s a story about Coincidence, or maybe Fate.
It’s a story about something, and maybe someone, dreamier than anything she could have ever created in fiction.
It’s a story that seems too good to be true.
They say that Paradise isn’t a place, it’s a feeling, but I happen to think it’s both. And I got it all when my feet hit the Koh Samui sand.
So this is it, the next chapter or maybe the final chapter…but you’ll have to wait for the book to find out.