Ever followed a path that seemed to have no end? Yeah, me too. One minute you're basking in the familiarity of that old dirt road, and the next, those footprints lead you somewhere you never expected—nowhere, maybe. Or somewhere else entirely.
Picture this: a quiet afternoon, the whispers of the trees guiding your thoughts, when you stumble across the first clue. It's just a pebble, really, half-buried and all by itself. Doesn't look like much, but you pick it up anyway. Suddenly, you're part of a greater mystery. Something about the universe's sense of humor, I'd say.
And then there’s that signpost. Wooden, a bit crooked, with letters scratched in deeply like some ancient language. You can’t quite make it out, but it doesn’t matter. It's the journey, right? Not the destination. Or maybe it's both—or neither. Who knows?
So, what's the story of our paths? Delusive Map? Or perhaps Colorful Decrees? Grab a pebble, turn it around in your hand, and ponder the footprints that lead nowhere, but somehow, lead everywhere.