RIGIL was written for those who grew up with an imaginary friend or two. And are now all growed up caring for kids and a spouse. Or those still trying to figure out this adulting theory. Because deep down, you’re an old ass kid. You’re a childish and selfish adult who now understands that the imaginary character you ventured with, was you, being stupid.
I like to think I’m doing extraordinary things. But at the end of the day, I’m only tethering words at bulk.
Before RIGIL and I parted ways around my sixth-grade year, I called him Oomph. That’s when I assumed he was an impression of my past self—because he was a voice in my head, mimicking past and imaginative behaviors.
In 2019, we met back up in Porto Seguro, Brazil. That’s where I got his real name. And guess what, he’s no impression of my past; he’s a beacon of my future.
You see, RIGIL’s an odd character, much like me. He’s difficult to read. Therefore, he writes.
I wrote this book on his behalf. He felt it best he tells his story before you know who…
Because people do stupid stuff next to train tracks.