Blowing my own trumpet

I have never been particularly fond of elephants, neither did my mom read out any elephant books to me back when I was in kindergarten.

So this name Ephi is just a delusion, something I have no connection with and yet choose to portray.

And now that's a metaphor for my life, the lack of real commitment, real meaning.

Half of the things I do and say, I don't mean.
In short I am a weird, weird, slightly self-obsessed being who half dwells in utopia.

The only connection between Ephi and I was established in the dissection hall of my med school , you see Ephi is an elephant who lives in the right lung.

Eparterial bronchus

Pulmonary artery.

Hyparterial bronchus.

Inferior pulmonary vein.

As you move down in the tiny, tiny lung elevator inside us, the contents are as such.

Yes I am quite the nerd and every nerd ought to have a blog.
So I thought so should I.

I believe writing is the most exposing of all art forms, it leaves you naked to the bone.

Exposing your deepest darkest fears, suppressed childhood memories and hushed up stolen kisses, it brings the forlorn ideas forged in your subconscious to life.But I think this grey skin is worth flaunting and I shall nevertheless go ahead with this lethal activity of writing.

Wish me luck :)