“Life takes us to unexpected places sometimes. The future is never set in stone, remember that.”

“You will be fine,' the fortune teller says. 'There may be decisions to make and surprises in store. Life takes us to unexpected places sometimes. The future is never set in stone, remember that.”

“Before you leave, the fortune teller reminds you that the future is never set in stone.”

“The finest of pleasures are always the unexpected ones.”

“You're in the right place at the right time, and you care enough to do what needs to be done. Sometimes that's enough.”

“Sting told me if I love somebody I should set them free.I doubt Sting ever loved anyone with wings. If he did he might rethink such a stupid sentiment.I suppose the point is to wait for your love to come back to you voluntarily.I wonder if there’s a difference between setting something free and letting it go?I probably did it wrong.I should stop taking advice from my radio.I worry that you’re lost.I keep a heart-shaped cage unlocked for you, out on the street where it can easily be seen.So if one day you return at least you’ll have a place to stay.”

“The sign outside this tent is accompanied by a small box full of smooth black stones. The text instructs you to take one with you as you enter. Inside, the tent is dark, the ceiling covered with open black umbrellas, the curving handles hanging down like icicles. In the center of the room there is a pool. A pond enclosed within a black stone wall that is surrounded by white gravel. The air carries the salty tinge of the ocean. You walk over to the edge to look inside. The gravel crunches beneath your feet. It is shallow, but it is glowing. A shimmering, shifting light cascades up through the surface of the water. A soft radiance, enough to illuminate the pool and the stones that sit at the bottom. Hundreds of stones, each identical to the one you hold in your hand. The light beneath filters through the spaces between the stones. Reflections ripple around the room, making it appear as though the entire tent is underwater. You sit on the wall, turning your black stone over and over in your fingers. The stillness of the tent becomes a quiet melancholy. Memories begin to creep forward from hidden corners of your mind. Passing disappointments. Lost chances and lost causes. Heartbreaks and pain and desolate, horrible loneliness. Sorrows you thought long forgotten mingle with still-fresh wounds. The stone feels heavier in your hand. When you drop it in the pool to join the rest of the stones, you feel lighter. As though you have released something more than a smooth polished piece of rock.”