I visited and participated in a tour run by the Detroit Experience Factory (DxF) on a day trip to Detroit with my classmates from Honors 241. While I was on this trip, a realization hit me — I did not know as much about Detroit as I thought I did.
I come from an Indian family with lovingly obsessive parents who will continue to baby me even when I’m living on my own. One day over Thanksgiving Break, my mom drove me to my ophthalmologist’s office for an annual check-up.
I’ve loved to read for as long as I can remember. Words paint pictures, paint moments, paint stories for me. And man, do I love a good story. The more fantastic, the better. Don’t get me wrong, the real world is great (occasionally), but the worlds of fantasy are even better.
I am writing this almost a year later, wondering how it can still be taking over my life. It tears at my soul like a nasty disease; it pauses briefly, giving me a moment to gasp for air, before it sinks its claws back into me and pulls me under.
Everyone has bias. I don’t believe in human objectivity. Whether you are informed or not, that’s your bias. If you do or don’t care, that’s your bias. This story is my bias. Before you read this and either support me or hate me, just understand that I have bias.