Chance and randomness

I often marvel at the randomness of it all.

If I had left one minute earlier, would I have missed all this traffic? Seeing the face of a random stranger and never seeing them ever again. Witnessing the sly look she gave him.
☉ ‿ ⚆

And the one he gave someone else.
•͡˘㇁•͡˘

That cool-looking cloud in the sky which is only there in that exact place for a minute before the wind, jealous of my admiration, blows.

I wonder what she is thinking… or him; must it crease their faces so? Is it that bad?

The cute kitten: I wonder what she would look like if she had longer fur or was not ginger. The yapping dog, the chirping birds, the riotous children, all answering the Second Command: “LET THERE BE SOUND!”

The neighbour’s clever dog who is let out for his last cocking-of-the-leg for the day. Once his business is done, he trots back to the door and barks, exactly once, soft and low as if to say, “Open up, dude, it’s freezing out here!” Where did he learn that, exactly? Who’s a good boy?

The random thoughts which cross my mind. Coincidences. Random threads of existences which intersect my own random twines, dissecting the mundane and piquing my interest. For I look, I notice; it is why I have eyes to see and ears to hear.

The cough in a crowd. Is it terminal or merely seasonal? I can’t tell. Do I care? Why, yes I do. If it’s your end, am I the only one who will miss you? Search you out again in another sound in the crowd.

The one who says hello. The other one who looks at you like you’re a ghost from their past.
•`_´•

No, we have not met, not even in the Hall of Souls, of that I am not uncertain. Our paths have not and will never cross, apart from that brief mutual stare. You are as repulsive to me as I am to you; the difference is I don’t show it on mine.
(⌐■_■)

But it’s all over your face. North Pole repelling North Pole. We can never. Yet we are one, the same, all connected.

Life is chaos. Random. But there is beauty in every single part of it. In everything.