 Scenes From My Life by Michael K. Williams, with John Sternfeld. Read For You by Dionne Graham. This book is a work of memoir. It is a true story based on Michael K. Williams' best and honest recollections of the events of his life. The following individuals portrayed in the book were given assumed names in the interest of privacy and discretion. Barry, Bill, Daniel, Darlene, Dina, Joni, K, Mr. S, and Walter. Co-authors note. We all are works in progress. Everybody is a work in progress. Michael Kenneth Williams. Michael K. Williams, Mike, to those who knew him, died on September 6, 2021, a few weeks before we were due to turn in this manuscript. He and I had been working for two and a half years on various drafts and iterations of this book, which began as one thing and gradually evolved into another. After his passing, the book was completed off of the extensive interviews he gave me. Mike was open to sharing his personal story and experiences because he thought his journey, his openness itself, could offer solace to others. He was adamant that the book he wanted to write shouldn't be about self-glorification but was instead an honest chronicle of what he'd been through and how it informed the man he became. He wouldn't want to hide the fact of what killed him, his addiction, and he spoke openly about the daily struggle the disease was for him and for so many others. There are references in this book to how he thought he was one false move from having it all slip away about the fragility of life and how it all could be snatched away at any moment. These are all directly from him. This is how Mike felt and how he spoke. Early on in the process he finished telling me an embarrassing story connected to his drug use and I asked if he was okay with putting it in the book. Yes, definitely, he said, I don't think I have the liberty of leaving that out. It told me so much about it, how he felt his struggles had to be about something more than just himself, how he suffered and how it was not in his nature to deprive anyone who might benefit from the sharing of that suffering. He knew how pain kept inside, multiplies, and how pain shared, subtracts. This idea would come up again and again in our work. Sometimes my phone would ring and it would be Mike in a frenzy, that deep and raspy baritone excited about some news piece he saw on television, some kid who had crossed his path or some memory that had sprung up. He'd tear up retelling a story and his voice would catch and the pain would find a way to settle. Then he'd get worked up about something else and his voice would go up an octave and he'd find his way back down before moving on. He had so much love, passion, hunger, and ideas that sometimes it all just spilled out of him and you had no choice but to just let it flow and marvel at it. Mike had an indomitable spirit and gracious energy and I'm not sure where it all came from. On some calls with me, he'd be out on the street and I could hear strangers walk up to him and just start talking. He was always friendly, knowing that exchange was real for them, that it mattered to them. So it mattered to him. It was never a burden being a recognizable face in the community. It wasn't the fame that fueled him, but that connection. He knew he was playing a part. And in his final years, he had grown more and more comfortable with the responsibilities and the possibilities that came with that part. His friend and activist partner, Dana Rocklin, told me that Mike understood that his greatest role was not Omar Little or Chalky White, but being a community member and doing the work, partnering with and mattering in young people's lives. And he grabbed it with both hands. In the week before his passing, he was in a really good place, optimistic, positive, energized. He was reminiscing to me about his old theater days and talking about his community work with that insatiable energy that was uniquely him. Mike was open to the world in a way few are. As we age, we tend to close off for protection, but Mike did the opposite. He wanted people to see in, and because of that, he was open to other forces getting in as well. It was like he didn't have a layer of protective skin. It was a blessing and sometimes a curse.