A yolk-boy, young and wise, finds himself pondering the existence of himself and fellow beings, roaming the nothingness alongside one another . His Leaflets and sprigs dot his bald, white scalp, shell and all. He is taught, stout and of all colors yellow.
He wonders where he could go on this distant voyage, turning slowly over one shoulder, to the vast expanse of rolling hills and sunlit valleys, “Where in this universe could it be that i turn next? I am of this universe and yet not at all phased by the common occurrences of brush and trail. Many a travelers I have met on this most unforgiving of roads. They seemed to have wanted the best for me and me the best for them. Now, however, I have gathered the insight and courage to take part on the journey of solo, truly solo”.
He jumps down from the bumpy rock wall from which he had rested for some hours, and stares at the three paths, just in front of him. With a ticket for none, a horrendous chapter behind him, it is a defining slather of choices to and end he does not yet know - one to serenity, one to livelihood, and another to reality.
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