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Summary
Sometimes vacations don't go as planned. Scratch that, life usually doesn't go as planned. We are always standing on a perpetual line of right and wrong and we stumble more than we would like to say. Every person looks for the ending, the place where we could relax and revel in success after all the work we just put in... but we never do. Where's the end? How do you define your personal ending outside of death? How do you define winning? Would it not depend on the goal first set, the pace in which you propel yourself to the end, and the body capability of actually completing the task? This all sound rather cryptic, a monologue full of questions rather than answering them. I guess the only answer I can give is a story. A story about a different time, in a different place, full of the naive.