I spoke to the fortune teller, shrouded in her thick clothes in the dingy cold caravan. Aged and bent as she was she possessed a strange strength to her. She said I could ask one question, and she would answer it.
I thought. I thought of the power of knowledge, the money, the fame, the potential for change. I could be beautiful, the beloved master of all. Perhaps I could even acquire the ultimate escape, the escape from mortality.
In that moment, I knew. I knew what the price of knowing was.
I asked her, "If you could have one thing, what would it be?"
She looked at me then, with old grey sad eyes. Eyes that had gone to far, seen too much. Eyes that knew the answer to any question I could ask. She smiled and nodded to me, as if I had passed the test.
She answered me,
"Ignorance"
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