Whoever coined the phrase hindsight is 20/20 is brilliant. He has stood in my shoes before me, seen the sky, the horizon from where I stand. He thought my thoughts before I was in the world and walked down that long, lonely road of Wonder centuries before me.
The questions swirled in his mind, like they do in mine. How did I end up here? Was I really in that place all those years ago? Why can't I remember what it felt like? Did I feel like this then, or have I changed?
Where is he now, that kindred spirit, that rare, dear stranger, who must have understood me, after whom my own soul is patterned?
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