Sometimes it is easier to lie. Somedays it seems that when there is nothing you want you can pretend it's still fine. Those days are warm and stuffy. The light overhead shines invitingly and you wonder what is left outside for you to play with. Being like a child is more difficult. There is more reason to find yourself in the midst of the characters instead of the colors. It's hard to think backwards. It's hard to imagine that you know less now than you did before.