Here’s a good question:
When did you stop believing that all things were possible?
When did we start believing that our visions were just fairy tales?
When did we start dismissing our dreams as just figments of our imagination?
When did we start measuring the value of what we hold within by what we have without?
When did our belief in what we do stop mattering?
When did it just become about making it to the end of the day, counting down ’til the weekend, just making it through to the end of the month?
When was the last time we looked at the reflection in the mirror and recognised ourselves? From what we once were to what we have become?
And when did we stop searching for the answers to these questions?