When I was small, my family lived in Paris (the very definition of torture might be to live in Paris before you're old enough to be able to appreciate it and experience it properly. No, the definition of torture would have to be not getting to live in Paris at all). There are all sorts of odd little vignettes that I remember from those couple of years - I guess partly from being so young, and what memory does after some time, and partly from there always being so much interesting that happened.
One of the books that I remember borrowing from school was this one:
It popped into my head this morning, and I thought how much the idea reflects relationships. One of you wants to go to one place, the other one wants to go somewhere else. But as long as you're both on the same dog, going in the same direction, you're ok*.
* Choosing which dog to be on in the first place? A whole other matter...