A sex-worker nun, a cloud guru, a spirit possessing garden gnomes, a prodigy born into an all-singing cast of prostitutes. Welcome to J.P Huber's memoirs
J.P Huber was my godfather i.e I never really saw him after the christening. But I heard about him, a lot. First of all in conversations hushed when I was spotted eaves-dropping, then as some sort of initiation into adulthood I was allowed to hear some stories and random news of him. A man who stomached no bullshit, a man so comfortable in his own skin that my dad joked that when god or the devil had had enough of him he would have to be taken body and soul to heaven or hell. He saw no closed doors, no hierarchies, no need to impress or be rude. Like in Shinto, he saw everything was its own God and he was his. All the ingredients to become a hero. I felt his inspiration in my desire to travel and become a journalist. Not that I knew he was a writer then.
Two years ago my dad was proved wrong when we buried him.
After the funeral, his girlfriend handed me a showbox. "He wanted me to give this to you. You're a lucky girl."
Now it's your turn. Be ready to reconsider what goes on in the world.