‘The only thing I know is that I know nothing’- Socrates
Sometimes our voices have no way to know which way to go. There is silence and then there are dreams that cling onto our throats unexpressed. Like ghosts our own thoughts haunt us, and what we are left with is time. To think. To know. To think we know. The clock slows down as we sit and wait for an answer. And so we wait, we keep on waiting. Until the day, when all the things we want to know become known to us. In knowing we grow, and in growth we go back to not knowing again.