Stories, Shadows, and Skateboards.  I had the profound realization that every person I encounter, every face I see, is merely a reflection, an echo or a reverberation of an infinite story. From the moment we are born, we embark on a solitary journey to face the final moments alone. Although, many of the kids in my skate crew would argue that nothing really matters in the grand scheme of things, but they only fail to grasp the significance of our individual experiences.  Death obviously remains a mystery, a concept that slips through our complete understanding, remaining elusive. Yet, there is an enticing question that lingers in my mind: Have we ever encountered other versions of ourselves? Could it be that the people around us, seemingly distinct individuals, are nothing more than characters we have constructed in a dream or imagination?  Childhood tales from my grandmother, once dismissed as whimsical adventures, now echo with haunting insistence. Playful shadows in the forest, now skulk at the edge of my vision. Maybe my reality is just an overstayed dream. I knew I had to change it. To do so, I had to go back. So I could see it earlier, and to follow the truth, even if no one believed me.