Happiness

He did not know where he was, but he knew that he was very tired. He also knew that his hunger had died. Though he remembered that he was very hungry at one point of time and it was not very long ago but yet it seemed to be sometime in distant past. Walking was the way of life. Stopping was odd and there was something really irritating about it. He did not like looking back, there was nothing there. No one was following him and he was following no one. All he could see behind were a few footprints that he had left behind. But as he would see them, the wind would blow and the footprints would fly away with the dirt. And he would stand there in the middle of nowhere, with no clue anymore of where he was coming from or where he was going to. So he would rather not stop anymore anywhere. Walking was the way of life for him.