We set out on our cyclical walks to undetermined stations. Fate is dealt when the music stops, we settle into our seats fortuitously or not, and this then defines our individuality for the moment. Still, every cycle leads us back to the chair of the Happy Face Collector, counting the "smileys" of our resilience. This childhood diversion may well be a prelude to the journey of the grown-ups: The determined walk of a man weighed down by the duty of a family provider before the uncertainties of his quest. The sustained energy of a woman preserving a home where everything is in place, safe and sound. The roles we are expected to perform often find us unsuspecting and our senses unrehearsed. We count the hours until the shoes fit comfortably enough and in comes a new pair: A visitor from the past, clearly visible, announces its arrival with a prepared speech. He brings the future and she is hesitant to receive. What question to ask is the key to unlocking the door of her psyche but when to receive fate's revelation hangs suspended as a matter of choice. There are as yet more concerns, more layers to peel, tears to shed and a restless longing for the pumpkin fairytale to come true.