ABSTRACT
It was foggy—so foggy I could not see my hand stretched out at arm’s length in front of me. I continued walking even though I did not know where I was or where I was going. I had only a vague sketch of who I was, only scattered pieces of my desires, my happiness. It was almost as if a five-year-old child was trying to complete a thousand-piece puzzle. She did not grasp the full picture and so struggled along with the tiny slivers of the project.
