if i had not been alone on a saturday night, walking through the financial district, friendless, aimless, and nerveless, i would not have met one of my closest friends smoking on a bench, though i didn't know her to be one of my closest friends, yet.
if not wandering down waverly place, deep in thought and in stares in the eyes of passers by, i would not have met that brilliant mind, that too-capable, two-faced, kind-heart well-guarded person, and would not have sat in astor place with them meeting the most kind harry styles fan, a middle-aged woman with one dog and eight cats, who made me laugh for ninety minutes straight.
if i would have ended up in a highrise apartment, twenty floors separated from earth and thousands of dollars separated from normal people, i would have never heard the fantasy grandma comedienne-poet on the microphone performing on the street outside my window, would have never watched kid krill, a brilliant folk singer from new orleans, would have never seen pinc louds strum on that guitar and sing with so much heart under a plastic tent in the heat of summer, when they should be on stage in front of thousands, not just the neigbors in alphabet city.
wanted one thing, fell short, got something else. for that, i'm thankful.
draw your conclusions and remember that, at best, they are sketches.