Isaac Hampson: The Man, The Legend, The Obituary

Where to start unravelling these threads of knitwear so enigmatic? Starting in the middle doesn't seem right, and starting at the end would result in a very short obituary so perhaps we should start at birth, as I'd rather avoid any accounts of the conception.

Isaac Elliott Hampson was born in the seaside city of Brighton. I don't really remember what happened after that, so we are skipping to age two, by which time the Hampson family unit had returned to life on the road. In his first few years he would have visited more countries than in the rest of his years combined, including destinations such as Siberia and South Asia, In fact, he would live the New Age Traveler life all the way to age seven, and have met many of the diverse characters expected along the way. It is thought it was his travels that gifted him with a high lev of tolerance for all kinds of life experiences, whether it's being stuck with savage children who would be most at home in 'Lord of the Flies' for friends, or listening to the opinions of the borderline insane. Despite this, he would always look back on those times with pride and nostalgia.

As is the case with many who live unusual lives, he developed an unusual outlook on the world, and reflected this in what little he had written before his tragic death on the 3rd of September 2013. He displayed a deep passion for creating art with his words, as evidenced in his final great work, a poem constructed of rhyming couplets called 'Flow of Creation', the very same poem that elevated his status within the ranks of posthumously discovered genius to be on par with the likes of Vincent Van Gogh himself.

In his spare time, he would practice freerunning and parkour, as a firm believer in balance of body and mind. Had he lived long enough he almost certainly would have written about the philosophy of parkour, much like Bruce Lee, one of his idols, did about Kung Fu.

Speaking of philosophy, it's a good thing solipsism proved to be untrue, otherwise this obituary would never exist, and to leave the death of such an important and influential figure in the world of word unmarked would be a wickedly woeful event. Luckily, it would seem that the universe does in fact exist with Isaac having been a part of it, rather than the reverse. In other words, nothing to worry about for now.

As this article draws (or should that be 'writes'? Perhaps 'types'?) to a close, the most suitable final words would of course be his final words uttered from the hospital bed, those being: 'Someone please write my obituary and upload it to my blog...'