I saw my life branching out before me like a green fig tree. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple blob, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous writer and another fig was a brilliant politician, and another fig was Karr, the amazing gamer, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was the lawyer and editor and a pack of other lovers, and beyond these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.
