“No, I will never make peace with the rapacious Roman empire. I will never surrender anyone to them. I won’t do anything that isn’t for the common advantage to all.”
— Mithridates the Great

Writer, Poet, Author.

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Walking into a classroom, 

Full of happiness and joy, Chatting friends, Loving classmates. You believe it’ll last forever. 

You think time will never run out. The clock begins to tick, The new year starts again. 

Third year comes around, Fourth is nearly here. As clouds begin turning gray, memories are washed away. 

You reminisce about the times of old you spent with friends. You talk about the never ending joyful summer nights. 

The bell rings, you’re the last one out. You turn to shut the door, you thought you’d never shut it a million times or more. 

The teacher flicks off the light, Tells you to ‘have a goodnight’. You peer into the classroom Through the little window. 

You tilt your head into it, Your last year at school ended. You’ll never forget it, yet it’ll never begin again.

Map for the Pal Bozzai book series.

Pal didn’t answer. He lifted himself onto the sill and jumped without further hesitation. He soared down the side of the mansion, getting covered in rain. Pal felt his right ankle twist and almost let out a screech, but clamped his mouth shut with his hand. 

He felt his hands land in mud and some sort of stone. Probably one of Diana’s many carved statues. Pal didn’t see a thing, but he could feel around. 

The boy fought to stand up. He hobbled off into the dark, wondering where life would take him next.