I try to follow the inner workings of those exhibits found in places where history is stored. My eyes, though, lose focus. Shrieks of joy from children delighting in balls bouncing and the turning of gears while levers move up and down urge me on back to when I saw with purer vision. I know that I too once held my face to the glass placed between myself and the larger mysteries of life that were duplicated before me. To some it has been given. To others it has not been given. In which crowd do I find myself? A long time ago someone handed me a set of keys. I have yet to find the doors which each one opens. Perhaps I will wait until company arrives and together we will unlock fate and hope.