When you read Rumi, or Attar and Khayyam’s poem, you find indirect ways of getting the point across.
That is to say the main road is good it gests us there, but the fun is in the side roads since they are
the scenic ones. After all that is the whole purpose of smile and metaphor to speak the invisible even the unspeakable.

In the west, constantly short of time, we value direct communication. Say it fast and in as few words as
possible. But that is the way of business and not arts. Specially poetry requires not only experience
but reflection. Pondering over events. And while you are at it why not the whole life, even, why not
the question of existence itself. Is life a tale told by an idiot making no sense?

Experience and reflection is particularly true in memoir writing. If “Kirk Review: A highly unique account but one that occasionally strays from its most engaging elements. ” If the side roads, the road diversion essential to constructing
a memoir, to make sense of life and death is straying away, then guilty as charged.