When he was young, he never worried about tomorrow. He would play as much as he could and sleep when needed and nothing could bring him down.

His joyful mother was the fierce little flame that fueled his desires and fed his dreams.

His father was tender and kind, fair to his whims and quirks.

Back then, he was truly happy, a boyant little cork protected from the fierce current of life.

Now, he was alone and thrown from the current. He was marooned on an island of lonesomeness, only now he had the additional view of a mysterious conundrum.