It is always dangerous to trust the signs. “Look here, the earth is bared and a narrow path leads on – this must be the way out.” And so optimistically we follow it, little knowing if it will perhaps end at the mouth of a dangerous cavern or the heart of a voracious quagmire, and consume us as it did its past patrons. Those gullible fools, we think. But still we follow it; and follow it because we too are human. We follow it because, surrounded by bleak, impervious walls of foliage, it is the only thing that is familiar and which can grant us a much needed sense of optimism, a meliorative hope of reaching that warm slit of sunlight. The danger is exactly this – this willing trust in something that isn’t certain but only appears so in all our longing for the better state. Alas, why do we doom ourselves?