The idea of a crossroad where I sit down, waiting for a clue, is something I came up with yesterday while sitting down to write something. Today I looked around at the world and the people I met and wondered: do they ever think about their life in metaphors. I don’t get the impression that they do due to how they answer my probing questions and react to my remarks. But they might have their own reasons to hide that part of their life from me and maybe the rest of the world. Perhaps this is due to their character, life experience, or just my faulty interpretation.

I rarely ask someone directly what they think of me and my ideas. It might be me, but that is not something we do in the society I live in. Only children, drunkards, or otherwise intoxicated people seem to ask these kinds of direct questions.

I wish I could be a kid again and ask the people in the store if they ever sit at a crossroad in life, waiting for an answer. Why and when do we change from being a child, full of wonder and little shame, into these buttoned-up so-called grownups with our wonder tamed and locked inside behind the curtains.