A girl walks into a room. She is met with a sea of faces. Some with pleasant crinkly eyes and warm smiles. Others with stone-set expressions and cold eyes. She glides quickly and softly through the room; searching. Searching for what she does not know, and she does not find it. She, in fact, is searching for something to search for.
An old woman hobbles across the street. She carries a cane, but does not use it. Her eyeglasses slide to the bridge of her nose, the bag of books on her shoulder slips and her knees buckle. The wishes, the searching, the dreams of the past catch her now, and serve as her support.
It's a feeling of confusion, a feeling of sorrow, a feeling of gladness.
It's little experiences each day that add to who we are, that create who we are.
A kind thought was never a coincidence. A kind action was never anything short from a miracle.
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