Setting the scene…
Interactive story
My Story
101 west 130th street and 4430 rolling hill drive i was back and fourth my whole life I wad in a cona hospitalized for 2yr 92 to 94 hiding from a so called chiropractor who always gave us raisins 91 pimple old tax I drinver old man I see…
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Previously
…Even in that state of near-oblivion, a phantom memory would surface—a chiropractor, his hands smelling faintly of antiseptic and something sweet, always pressing a handful of raisins into my palm. It was a bizarre ritual, a strange comfort I clung to even as consciousness eluded me. I remember the confusion of those days, the disorienting shifts between awareness and the void. Yet, through it all, a constant anchor held me fast: my father. His presence was a steady warmth, a reassuring weight beside my bed, his voice a low murmur that cut through the sterile silence. He was my unwavering constant, the one certainty in a world that had dissolved into a hazy dream.