#103 You Became the Tourist in Your Own Childhood—by Your Own Design

You made something that works. It works so well that it moves on its own, from place to place, leaving the same fingerprints everywhere. You see those fingerprints in a cafe, in a shop, on a street corner—and a small part of you is flattered.

Then you turn the corner into the alley where you grew up. The same fingerprints are already there, cold and precise. You recognize them. They do not recognize you.