A father’s child, a mother’s child, yet no one’s son. Who am I?

Answer: The daughter.

Solution:

It shouts along the street, hasn’t any lungs, It tugs at leaves and hurls them at people old and young. What is it?

Answer: The Wind.

Solution:

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The Wind.

What kills you inside the more you keep it and sets you free the moment you release it?

Answer: Guilt.

Solution:

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Guilt.

This Mexican dish is a type of flatbread made of crushed flour or cornmeal and is cooked and then enjoyed hot or cold. It is used especially in making quesadillas.

Answer: tortilla

Solution:

In Paris but not in France, the thinnest of its siblings.

Answer: I

Solution:

I can be in your room and your mind but two people can never find me, What am I?

Answer: Isolation

Solution: