And so, my new deal, a new wave of emotions.
I sit at the table like a very old merchant of destinies. Before me are not goods, but a right-yet not an obligation. Each letter in the word contract is like a spell: “I am bound and I have the right…” And in that moment, I become the writer of an option.
I sell and buy a right, not a thing; I sell hope, not a result. The buyer of the option wanted to see a guide to the future, while the writer knows that if the stars align differently, he will have to pay the price.
I wrote lines where risk hid between numbers, and the premium was a small reward for courage. And yet, deep inside, I remained and will remain a storyteller. This is my memory and my tale, always about choice, and about how a single promise can change the fate of anyone.