The old man strokes his beard and asks me what secrets I keep deep down inside. My reply is to look at him in the eye and tell him that a beard is used to hide the truth and it is I that is shaven.
The old man smiles as he braces himself to stand up.
Upon standing he starts walking away, leaving me to ponder why he had asked me the question and the essence of my reply.
Each of us holds something deep inside. In most cases it is carefully concealed under a mountain of untruths or excuses.
Mine lay upon the surface where it is there for all to see and yet, no one has noticed. It is hidden in plain sight where you can not see it.