Infinite Stories

It’s amazing how many different people you can meet on a daily basis. Ordinary individuals that float in and out of regular routines can seem extraordinary, even if they’re strangers. In fact, filling the blanks is what makes them interesting.

For example, the old man on the second floor of a nearby brick building that is always blasting R&B music through his open windows. Or, the ground floor tobacconist that smokes out back and sometimes gives us our mail.

There’s the family from Michigan I occasionally bump into at local festivals, and the neighbors next door that like to drink on their rooftop, even though it was never designed for such activity.

Everyone has their own story. Everyone is unique. We’re an immeasurable amount of lead characters writing personal novels, crossing paths in our infinite chapters.

It makes you realize how small of a role you play in the universe, yet at the same time, how much potential the human race can collectively fulfill.

At least, that’s the sort of thing I think about five minutes into my jog. There’s probably a more appropriate time to pretend I can unravel the universe’s mysteries.

I’m sure a normal jogger would be thinking something like “Did I leave the burner on?” And here I am pondering the untapped power of humankind.

How dramatic.

Maybe I should go back to judging these barefooted rebels on the sidewalk.

Seriously, what are they doing?!


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