Memoir | Fred FARJANI
The Savage Writer
Not a myth or a legend, I’m referring to myself
I write like a savage. It’s not just because I came up hustling from a third-world country, where desperation pushes people into the grind without mercy.
I was born into a bilingual intellectual family where my dad — part of the baby boomer generation — gave everything to “the machine” of work.
I grew up watching him toil away, knowing deep down I wanted a different life, something wilder, untamed.
The privilege of summer trips to the U.S. opened my eyes, especially to the raw, unfiltered freedom of first-world life.
From New York down the East Coast to Orlando — the towering skyscrapers and sprawling highways, the cuss words that rolled off people’s tongues like they owned the air, and the tempting sense of freedom. The infrastructure wasn’t just concrete and steel; it was a symbol of people unapologetically living out their desires, claiming their space in the world, and embracing who they truly wanted to be.
But even in all that glamour, something stirred in me. I knew I had wisdom, but it wasn’t something you get from books — it was street wisdom. The entrepreneurial bug bit me early, whether it was selling DVDs on the streets of Morocco or…
