the winding road to self: introduction
"What are you hoping to find?" She was looking straight at me with a slight tilt in her head and a pen in hand. I knew she was waiting for an answer, but like many times before I didn't know how to respond. I thought long and hard about it. I imagined myself wandering down a dark, beautiful and narrow hallway in an abandoned mansion, flashlight within my grasp, slowly gazing at the walls lined with oil paintings adorned with dusty antique frames and seemingly ordinary faces. I imagined tracing the corners of each frame with my fingertips as I studied the people whose names I'd never heard, faces I'd never touched, and lives I'd never known. On and on the hallway stretched, doors on either side with no end in sight. I knew I could open any one of them if I wanted; it just took one stretch of my arm, a twist of my wrist, and a push with my palm...but I dared not open any of the doors. After all, it was dark and I was alone. Inevitab...