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Wherever he turned there was this light. Always in his face, dead on. A round, glowing, slowly throbbing globe. Always there, like a humming sound that does not want to go away, like a mosquito bite in a place that can not be reached by hands, like a grain of finest sand inside of one's left eye.
Everybody had a shadow. He did not. Just this light. This constant light.
He was tired of it. He did not want it. He wanted to run towards it and smash it into pieces. He wanted to throw something heavy at it.
But he could not. He felt too weak to even try. He waited for it to either go away or to explain to him why it was there. Nothing.

Blinded, tired, sad and weak, he stumbled towards it, like a moth in a world where air had been replaced by honey.
Was he Curious, Brave?, Mature?, probably none of the three, yet...
Not for years...
He stopped.
From now on every even tiny step began to make sense. It all began to make sense. Everything and all of it...
Very slowly, very, very, very slowly he remembered.
He smiled even more, he laughed, staring at it all with his almost fogotten eye.
His field of vision was expanding again. Far beyond anything he could have dreamt of. Slowly but surely. Unstoppable, soft, kind, inspiring expansion.