The Universe may be a wily playwright…

The Universe may be a wily playwright. All those near misses, narrative complexities and dramatic tensions; if people met their best matches in life, most of the rich tapestry of the shared stories we live would reveal itself as so much smoke and mirrors. But there is smoke and there are mirrors and for whatever else even vaguely resembling purpose, meaning or direction the world appears to inscribe into our timelines – the Universe is under absolutely no obligation to us to render itself as consistent or intelligible. We’re probably all just so many lost souls in diminutive atmospheric fish bowls, waiting for someone who never arrives…

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