I’m beginning to realise that I’m not the curious, wide-eyed little boy that I once was. When I ask questions, they’re mundane. How are you? I ask, How was your trip? I still get the urge to ask a grown-up what’s what every so often, but it’s not the same. I wouldn’t receive the same answer, only confusion. I can talk to people about cricket, about the night out last week, about what their plans are for tomorrow night. I long to ask them what they feel like when they’re in someone’s car with the windows down and the sun shining, how peaceful they feel when they lie down and look at the sky at night, whether they want to go exploring with me. I can never articulate, and I find that all that comes out is, Are you going out tonight?