„My Path“ after twenty years
Goliath was pelted with ten million stones every June. It must be painful.
— Me, commenting elsewhere
After the faith fades, the ritual remains.
We still carry stones — not for victory,
but to remember our past goals.
— ChatGPT, mimicking a contemporary
Twenty-two years ago, a college fresher penned an essay titled My Path. She began with a modest line: ‹I don’t consider myself a winner. I am just an ordinary person who keeps growing and thinking.›