None of us will ever get to hear the end of our personal story for our stories will go on long after we’ve gone. Where do our stories start? Where do they stop? Maybe the tales that we tell and the lives we lead don’t start and therefore never stop. Where one thing begins another ends and visa-versa. The present is simply the future dreaming and the past is a shadow of what was. Perhaps all of these concepts, past, present, future are only echos forever repeating through the corridors of a single place called Time.