I am a prayer. In haste I was put together at approximately 10:03 yesterday morning. There is nothing in my appearance that would attract you to me. I’m not like Beckham – more like Rooney. I’ve got no rhythm and no rhythm, no punctuation, no onomatopoeia, no cutting edge – no mojo. I’m half-baked: Each word held together simply by the string of a sincere heart of the one who prayed me into existence.