Random acts of gentle whimsy were visited upon us by grandmothers and Anglican priests and indie kids in turquoise t-shirts. We sat in cafes in foreign lands drinking coffee until 4am, fluorescent light playing tricks on our eyes as overhead fans beat out drum rhythms. We watched the waves come and go in the south china seas and flung ourselves at the tide. We stood on mountaintops and conversed with birds. We are the Aurora Borealis and the dust in your hair, we are the frost on your panes and the last green leaves of Autumn. We are all made out of the carbon that once resided in the heart of long dead stars. We are life itself.