Have you ever met a stranger by complete chance, with whom you wished your paths could have crossed for a longer period of time than what had been? Of the seven billion people that exist in the world today, how many might we have the opportunity to meet in our lifetimes? Of these people, how many would hold the power to touch our souls, to create reverberations down to our cores, to leave an indelible trace in our thoughts and doings for the rest of our days, before once again vanishing into the world that exists beyond the locus of our own existence, should we not try to make them stay?
How many fleeting moments have you once shared with an unfamiliar yet unshakably intriguing being? It could have been a mere exchange of glances, a subtle upturn of lips, or a simple word of greeting transported across the oceans. A small and seemingly inconsequential gesture that carries within it an open-ended question, laced with potentiality. Each one holds the promise of opening up a new world of possibilities, uncovering the hitherto hidden magic that could only emerge from the intensity and purity of true human connection.
How many times have you wished you could turn back time – to say something different, to do something different – all in a bid to partially actualise your imagined visions of what could have been, or what might have transpired, had that one fleeting connection with another human-being were not allowed to lapse, fade away, and henceforth remain a reminder of the smallness of our beings swirling amid the vastness of the universe?
I almost wish we were butterflies and lived but three summer days – three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain.
– John Keats
That we are all little boats, floating in an immense ocean, attempting to navigate our way through the waters. An opportune gust of wind may shift the direction towards which we venture; the moroseness of the moon may lead the tides against our favour. During this voyage, we may at times come across another little boat – likewise finding its way through the expanse of silver-tipped waves – with which our journeys intersect, ever so briefly, until the next tidal wave pulls us apart, once more.
– Agnes Chew