Have you ever kept walking, sure that the exit was near, only to realise that you’ve been going around in circles?
Ever been trapped?
I have.

Once, I was someone. A bestselling author whose prose charmed the world. I was in love, I was married, and my muse was my partner through it all. Then came the accident. I lost a part of myself – became a man unravelling, a husband undone. A novelist without words.

See, the mind can be a maze. Mine became a labyrinth.
I was banished to a hospital for the gifted, where my paranoia wasn’t cured; it only grew, fed by the doctors and my fellow inmates surrounding me.

My name is Henry Levi. I’m a writer. This isn’t a memoir, it’s a record of my time spent in the depths of the labyrinth, fumbling in the dark for the golden thread that would lead me to salvation.
A story, a warning, a legend … call it what you like.

I call it my Study on Falling.