Self-winding

 

There is one Lego block in with a bunch of Tinker Toys.  It knows it is a toy but sees that it is different.  It doesn’t fit in with anything around it.  Consequently, day after day it sits at its typewriter and jabbers on about all the other things it sees that don’t make sense in the world.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows his final resting place will be at the bottom of a dark, abandoned toybox.  No longer inspired to write adventurous tales, he takes to wandering through his memories.  Occasionally interrupted by a crack of light as the lid of the box opens and some other toy finds its way to oblivion.

At the bottom of the toybox, where it is dark, shape and color do not exist.  Everyone is the same.  There are no outcasts, no misfits, and plastic or wood doesn’t matter.  Memories get shared, stories told, and what were once different paths now seem to converge, to blend into what is us now.  We make our own adventure, albeit an unexpected journey.  There are no batteries and no instructions.  We motivate each other to carry on.