Lately I have been wishing there was more time to write. That everything would stop spinning for just a moment so I could sit down and tap blissfully away. Like I used to.
Then today I saw two strangers sitting side by side at a park bench, their fingers just inches from each other. Both were silent, staring straight ahead and neither seemed in any particular hurry to leave.
On my walk home, I wondered who they were and what destiny had in store for them. Will they remain strangers or become friends—perhaps even lovers?
Then a thought occurred to me. While I am trying to find time to write, while my words are gathering dust in some sort of cosmic inventory—life is giving me a story.
— Lang Leav