Curiosity is fascinated by the sea, by the great crash when rolling waves reach the wet sand, by the distant ships that come and go, by the cries of the seagulls and by the patterns of shells washed up on the shore. Shells once held life but now remain mere remnants of what came before, each bearing a different pattern, each colorful in its own way, no two alike. And Curiosity could sit on the warm sand for hours on end studying this phenomenon that is reality: sketching the small critters that roam the shores. Curiosity writes poetry about the beauty of the sunset, building a rickety raft to take her to strange, new lands. Curiosity loves the ocean because it stretches on for hundreds and thousands of miles out beyond a pale horizon. She searches for Opportunity and Satisfaction, never quite finding the latter. Curiosity will never reach her full potential, but she grows and explores every new dawn, and that is enough. Life is Curiosity.
