Me in my baby carriage in Altach, Austria, already past Page 1.

The universe is a sort of book, whose first page one has read when one has seen only one’s own country.

This translation of the words often misattributed to Augustine of Hippo but actually originating from Louis-Charles Fougeret de Monbron’s Le Cosmopolite, ou le Citoyen du Monde says as much about me as does anything else. I was well into Page 3 before reaching my first birthday, having left my birthplace, Latvia, travelled across Germany and taken up residence in the Alps of Austria. And by age five, set foot on two large continents and crossed a vast ocean. All under conditions that provide the sort of plots that make good stories.

But no matter how far my wanderings take me, I will only be able to take credit for having read Chapter 1, since I am told that Earth is only the fifth largest of the eight planets in the Solar System. That the Solar System resides in an outer arm of the Milky Way galaxy, which contains about 200 billion stars. That there are more than 170 billion galaxies in the observable universe. That light emitted from beyond the observable universe has not had time to arrive here. Meaning what I know is minuscule compared to what I do not.

Still, I am not content to remain a mere speck. But wary enough of what is presented as “truth” to say that my writings are mere fiction.

Note: For those who want some specifics, see my brief bio.