On the Road

I can never think of a birthday like this one: you got up and rushed to classroom for a cold welcome before a presentation, though claimed to be "the most interesting story I've ever heard", after which you managed to catch up with another interview only to find you were one hour earlier than required. While waiting, you suddenly decided to take an extra interview in the afternoon, for which you abandoned your lunch, and more miserably, the sweet afternoon sleep. Night approached when you were dragged back, grabbing pizza with a friend, who was almost the same tired as you were.

You spend days on the road. And it goes on in the night. Sometimes you cried out in the dreams, where you are chasing your light, your kite and the rest of your life. "I will never quit." you always say, as Harry Porter did, "Never." What's there at the end of the road? A rock? A treasure? A beauty? "Another road," calmly replied you, "leading to another."

Sometimes you rethink all the way back, back to the first step, cautious, hesitated and unbelievably bold. They try to draw a map, but you started to take your step. Is it faster? Or is it another cheater?

Finally it turns out to be my birthday, the 22^nd. No history for losers, as no miracles for winners.