Saw Juno tonight. How can anyone not 16 capture the essence of the child/woman, boy/man of that age in life? Tender sprouts searching for their own way to the sun. Struggling through the forest of bigger trees and leaves too many to count. Blocks perhaps to the light they need to grow true and strong. The real dangers are in the trees that may look like any other, but are dead inside. One day they will blow over in a storm, taking with it anything in the path of their fall. Their dead weight can crush a tender sapling. Or if it survives the damaged sapling’s course can turn to narrow twists and stunted growth, never reaching the light it was meant to feel. Some day in an undreamt of future brought on by the endless turns of the wheel, they in turn become the danger.
It was all in that simple tale.