I’ve walked down lonely paths; sometimes I miss that thrill of discovery. The thrill of investigation, of exploration, is what fuelled me each time. Further and further I would go, alone in the world. Alone down lonely paths without a care for myself, without fear. Each time I would question what lay beyond.
What lay beyond that lake?
How deep is the water?
Could I skirt along the minimal shore; could I weave through the reeds and rotting wood; could I walk along the thick, unstable mud?
It never mattered how far I could get. Each time I was always left wondering what I would have found if I had just gone further down? The thrill of mystery was always my drug.