The Boy Who Lived
About the Book
Will you believe me if I told you I died and I made my memory without the thought of the person I would find? Hello, everyone. My name is Castello Tyroy Gilbert. Some pronounce it as Costello, but it’s still the same to me. My family prefers to call me Kevin since it sounds like heaven. I was the first boy in my family that realized I had enemies. I stated this once before in a previous book. My journey from Jamaica only allowed me to adapt to the same culture, to have each step being forgiven like falling out of a tree that grew to the height of thirteen feet. I was only three and a half when I bled. Watch the news. I even think they had my head in a tornado of amusement. At that time, I was only imagining the distance for it to be a testimony of my life, trying to break away from each tournament of a boy’s tormented mind. Writing and solving problems, a monkey had my mind. It was something I always wanted to do. It was one of my favorite things, having been created in school. Out of that same culture, I found structure-like circuits hardwiring itself to be led. Without the ability to pronounce itself or the abilities of speech, my fingertips speaks. Identifying with so many things, it appears as a sociopath, coming to find my mind entwined with the things they needed to achieve. As a little boy, I was very inquisitive about nature, creation, education, and the teachers found in this novel. I won’t lie to you. It was a very self-proclaimed book about things that have happened and things that had been forgotten, which allowed me to understand my own life and others who rectify themselves from being abused.