I grew up in the 1980s, in England, an only child living above the general store my elderly parents and I ran together—a shop that never seemed to close. While the world outside burst with colour through video games and music videos, our home was dimmed by a small black-and-white television and an atmosphere shaped by survival rather than joy. There were no holidays, no toys, no meals out—only long days, hard work, and a quiet heaviness I didn’t yet understand.

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Shy and watchful, I grew up beneath my father’s fierce temper and my mother’s relentless drive for me to succeed. As immigrants, my parents believed endurance mattered more than happiness, and achievement mattered more than feelings. Their sacrifices were immense, but so too were the emotional costs.

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Years later, while caring full-time for my elderly parents, memories I had buried began to resurface. I felt compelled to write about my childhood—not exactly as it was, but as the adventure I never had the freedom to live. The characters seemed to arrive from somewhere beyond me, and storytelling became a way of transforming memory into imagination and pain into possibility.

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Rather than seeing my past solely as something to overcome or erase, I have come to view those experiences as a source of creative energy. I do not wish to forget where I came from. The wounds and longings of childhood have become part of the fuel that drives my imagination, giving rise to stories, ideas, and a deeper understanding of what it means to be human. Creativity has allowed me to find meaning in experiences that once felt overwhelming.

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*The Changemakers* explores perception and reality, choices and intention, and the resilience that can grow from difficult beginnings. More than that, it reflects my belief that creativity itself can be a powerful force for healing and self-discovery.