Editing a book

From the Author:

I do not remember when I was born. I remember the smell of stone under the sun. I remember how the fire danced in the cave, and people looked at it as if it were a deity. They did not know that one day they would learn to build cities, write books, fly… and kill by the millions.

I was there when one man wrote the first law. I argued with the one who said that the soul is merely breath.

Sometimes I saved. Sometimes I destroyed.

I am the Chronicler. A witness. A shadow.

This is my confession. My story. Perhaps, yours.