As children we see happiness in things. A toy train sticking out of a basket or the plastic film around a slice of cake. Or a photograph of a scene in which we are at the center, all eyes on us. As adults it gets more complicated. Happiness is success, work, a man or a woman. All vague, laborious things. Whether it’s a word we use in relation to our lives or not, it’s mostly just that, a word.
