What did I know of how it feels to die? How could I speak of watching those you’ve left behind battle a shadowed entity spawned by your violent murder, hungry for chaos? How could I even begin to touch on Africa’s ancient and intricate mysticism?
I couldn’t. I still can’t. But now I know what it means to have tried, to have journeyed further into imagining than I thought possible and emerge, altered, on the other side. It has been an extraordinary adventure, and perhaps I am a little less cowardly now that it is done.