'Twas the year of 1972, when I became #108,000,000,000 of our species. One of these numbers is completely arbitrary, the other less so. 
    I dedicate my life to words and communication, by day as a translator, by night as an artist. Without efficient articulation, expression and interchange, we shall perish earlier than necessary. Communication important is. 

    By day, I help people from all five continents to overcome language obstacles, so that they may no longer be hindered by physical and social barriers.
    By night, I try to find ways to illuminate what rests hidden in people's minds, usually involuntarily - for a variety of reasons, reasonable or not. I find it fascinating how a thought emerges in a person, embarks on a perilous journey through their neurons with such amazing speed, to finally emerge from their output devices - only to be misunderstood ever so often. 
    Our species appears to be the result of a roughly four-billion-year-long abiogenesis. Homo sapiens has come a long way, yet all too often I must conclude, its members have found their communication skills that same morning, between their house keys, phone and pocket lint. 
    As you might already be able to tell, I see my artistic purpose in looking for vantage points off the beaten path. 


    As the novelist Stephen King once put it when asked for the reasons he writes:
    "Why do you think I have a choice?"

    If you would grant me some rope, we all seem to have coagulated from the universe's pocket lint and are all currently finding ourselves in this gravity well called Three of Eight - or Earth, if you will -  to enjoy a single-fare round trip around a star, in the outer regions of one galaxy among trillions.
    Our species' collective database is thirsting for constructive and competent input - so that future wordsmiths may find better explanations, because their scientists did what science does best:
    Question without reservation, learn as much as possible, and observe with diligent curiosity, until we can lift the veils off the ever-present answers from our surroundings with our capable but limited minds.
    The universe has donated each little building block of our conscience, possibly for a reason, but most likely for none at all - other that it being able to perceive itself. In any case, it is our decision to be part of the problems, or part of the solutions - I assume. For now. Research and debate on whether there is "free will" still goes on. 

    I must conclude there is, because I find that I can make choices - and the fleeting breath of my own conscience is what I shall leave behind for an ever so brief time. 
    My name is Sum 108 and I am very happy to welcome you all.