I look back through those rebellious years when I thought I knew better; when my mind could not generate a thought that wasn’t true and worthy of everyone’s reverence. I thought my parents were old and tired. I was convinced the times they lived in and the ways they’d gathered were long left behind on the island of forgotten. And I made my way through life collecting a wealth of knowledge and pain that once and once again proved to me how wrong I was, how dilutted. Now, with a few more white hairs in the head and a bit more experience under the belt I can happily say that I am convinced that I now know much less than what I thought I knew before.