What is Your Name
Just a parable of sorts... "Where are we going?" the boy asked. His question was directed to the young man, walking a stride ahead of him, who led the way along the winding path. The meandering trail wound through green meadows, full of wildflowers of various colors. The floral ornamentation decorated both sides of the divide. There was no other details, no scars of mankind. "This way," the young man replied, pointing in the direction they were heading, toward the horizon. "Where did we come from?" It was a question the boy had been pondering. Just another question, but this one was formed by his mouth and spoken out loud. Perhaps asking a question about the clover or the buttercups might have been suitable. But some questions just need to be spilt out. The young man stopped, patiently contemplating the words uttered by the boy. The young man was thin, not very muscular. To the boy he appeared to be a gymnast, or perhaps a marionette, all ...
