Maybe our mistakes are what make our fate. Without them, what would shape our lives? Perhaps if we never veered off course we wouldn't fall in love, or have babies, or be who we are. After all, seasons change. So do cites. People come into your life and people go. But it's comforting to know that the ones you love are always in your heart. And if you're very lucky, a plane ride away.
I got to thinking about fate. That crazy concept that we're not really responsible for the course our lives take. That it's all predestined, written in the stars. Maybe that explains why, if you live in a city, where you can't even see the stars, your love life tends to feel a little more random. And even if our every man, every kiss, every heartache, is pre-ordered from some cosmic catalogue, can we still take a wrong step and wander off our own personal milky way? I couldn't help but wonder, can you make a mistake and miss your fate?