There once lived a curious man.

He poked his nose into every little corner for which he had no explanation. Every creature that crossed his path, he questioned about this and that. Little by little, his questions became too heavy for people to bear. They began avoiding him. Even a flock of sparrows would burst from the bushes the moment they saw him coming.

One morning, he awoke to an empty town.

He wandered through familiar streets without meeting a single living soul. He paused for a moment, then made his way to the great town square.

There, he found almost everyone he had ever known.

They were standing in a line.

Some were chatting. Others waited in silence, exhausted. Some had grown impatient and loud. The curious man quietly took his place among them. Knowing that people disliked his curiosity, he remained silent. He stared ahead and patiently observed those around him.

An entire day passed.

The line kept growing longer, yet the distance to its end never seemed to grow any shorter.

Among the crowd he noticed a woman he knew—one of the most patient people he had ever met. Slowly, he made his way toward her. The others watched him with disapproving eyes, convinced he was cutting in line. Their whispers became frowns, and the frowns became cold stares.

He simply smiled.

“I know where my place is,” he told them. “Once I learn something important, I’ll come back.”

Three days passed before he finally reached her.

“Why is everyone standing in line?” he asked.

She looked at him with mild surprise.

“I’m waiting,” she replied.

“What are you waiting for?”

“I’m waiting because there’s a line.”

Then she turned away and gazed into the distance.

The curious man stretched his neck, trying to see what lay ahead, but he could not find the end.

He turned to the next person.

“What are you waiting for?”

The answer was the same.

Curiosity was his strongest emotion. It carried him through every day of his life. So he asked the next person. And the next. And the next. He questioned everyone until he found himself back where he had first joined the line.

Only to discover that someone else now stood in his place.

He did not ask why.

Instead, he walked back to the beginning of the line and questioned everyone once more. When he reached the front, he raised his voice and shouted:

“Does anyone in this line actually know what we’re waiting for?”

People slowly turned toward him.

It seemed as though his question had touched something buried so deeply within them that some began to tremble, others burst into laughter, while a few responded with anger and curses.

Then a distinguished middle-aged man stepped forward. He was wealthy and influential—the kind of man who could have skipped the line whenever he pleased.

Leaning close, he whispered:

“We’re waiting because there’s a line.”

The curious man nodded.

“I see.”

The distinguished man smiled with satisfaction, convinced he had finally silenced the curious man.

But the curious man stood there only a moment longer before quietly stepping out of the line.

The crowd became restless.

“Why aren’t you waiting?”

He smiled once more.

“Because I don’t know why I should. While you’re waiting, I can wander, visit places, and meet people I have never known.”

Evening slowly descended upon the square. The last rays of sunlight brushed across the faces of those still waiting, bathing them in warm gold.

The curious man looked back at the line one final time.

“Because I am curious, I will walk a different path.”