I wonder how much of life happens in the margins.
The things that weren't on the calendar. The conversations that took a strange turn. The wrong turn that turned out to be the right one. The song you stumbled across at precisely the wrong—or right—moment.
We spend an awful lot of time trying to get somewhere. Maybe the interesting stuff happens when we briefly forget where we're going.
Perhaps the universe has a lousy scheduling system. I'm beginning to think that's a feature, not a bug.
