The door opened. I was born. I can’t say I chose to come through that mortal portal, yet I must say I have never resisted the path that lay before the door. At times, I faltered, But I always continued down the path. Moss hanging from trees, spiderwebs, muddy swamps, golden trails of green, green grass .. trees in Spring, soft fluffy snow in Winter. Summer as I remember it. But mostly Spring and Fall – being born and then dying – beautifully and consistently. …… I kept following the path. I have no idea if it was by choice or predestination, genetics, bad luck, dumb luck. Chaos.