One story ends, another one begins. And were just left as shadows on a stage. Telling a story and pretending to be someone else. Focus not the memory of pain, nor sorrow. But the joy and the trials that shaped our being. One door opens, one door closes forever with no turning back. What can we really say at the end? The end of a story, a book, a movie, a life? I don't think there is really anything to say. I could write forever filling page by page to the end of time. But as this door closes, I take what I cherish. the memories of shadows on a stage, untouched by the rest of the world.