Everything written here could be false. There might have been a mix-up at the hospital. Goldfish die and dogs run away. Some people have probably lied to you. There is no Santa Claus. I don't know where seedless oranges come from. I don't know where seeded oranges come from. Once, an m&m melted in my hand. There is no guarantee that the future will be anything like the past. I'm not even sure that death or taxes are for certain, but I do know this: You might be blindfolded and hugged. You might be loved within an inch of your life and left at the train station with a bus ticket. Someone might give you something for free. You might hear a bird sing. You might see the morning sunlight shining on the wall. You might see a rainbow in the middle of the night. You might accidentally walk into a fresh patch of air. You might find yourself in a foreign land eating a new fruit with a new friend sitting next to a new tree and new you might new decide new you likes the unguaranteed uncertainty of life. You might find yourself inside a fortune cookie with a poet or a butterfly: Chuang Tzu says, "The good traveller doesn't know where he's going—the great traveller doesn't know where he's been."