My road is uncertain. It is a road. It’s just the road. Everything is the road.
On several occasions I have changed my means of transport.
In others, I had to choose at a crossroads.
In others, I have wondered if I did not get confused at that crossroads, but there was no turning back.
Even if there was a turning back, I realized that that would not fix anything either.
I know that there are those who think we can get somewhere but, after so many miles, I realize that no, this never ends.
It only ends when life ends.