When I was a boy, I stood on my grandparents porch, looking across the fertile fields surrounded by plush green mountains covered with fluffy cotton tops of the beautiful trees, thinking about the endless opportunities life had in store for me.
At the age of twenty five I found life was no more than a Hamster wheel, where I was always moving but going nowhere.
At forty, I took a good look in the mirror, and all I could see was a dark empty abyss, a huge area of emptiness where nothing seemed to live.
Now when I look off the porch all I see are dead limbs on trees, grown up bramble and brush, briar patches of what the world has turned into. The potential for endless opportunities seems to now be a prison of man made barbwire.
