Maya Angelou once said “there is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” There was a time about a decade ago, when I was very prolific, and also more inclined to share my experiences, when people I knew would ask me to write a book about my life. I had always wanted to, but like every artist, I was always waiting for the right moment; some apt moment when time stretches out and conditions are perfect, when the opening of the door to the soul won’t get in the way of laundry or something. In the decade that followed, life took even more extraordinary turns, and there were many times I thought, while still bearing the ever expanding burden of the untold story, that I was glad I didn’t try to define it quite so prematurely. Always living under my skin, like an itch that needs to…...