Sometimes, when driving somewhere, I can’t help but stare at all the homes Im passing and wonder at the many lives that go on inside them, of all the immense sorrows, hopes and joys contained within such tiny boxes. There are SO many people in the world, and so many are good, decent people who are a privilege to meet, even if coincidentally. But it’s those rare few who become life-long friends, who you can’t imagine NOT having met, who seem drawn to you from out of the faceless crowd as if by the slow tug of gravity–those are the strangers I wonder about as I’m passing by all those countless anonymous homes.