The candy wrapper I picked up that afternoon was a mosaic of shoeprints. It made me wonder about the lives of people who stepped on it—they’re all going different paths, they have different destinations, and they wove different plans in their heads about their hundred-hundred tomorrows.
At some point in their journey, their souls converge or slide upon each other without knowing it. This wrapper is a witness. If our souls ever bump into each other, will we be aware of it? Will you let the chance pass? Will another wrapper be recording our asymptotic history in its thin surface?
-“Prints” at my OneWord account