STRANGERS WHEN WE MEET?

On the surface of things, the world is a place of ordinary people and ordinary things. Everything placed in its "proper" order, living and dying pretty much as directed by some internal software put there by some humorous architect (or not).
Every night, I turn out the lights and lay down, listening to the incessant hum of the city. When I was a kid it used to be the river and the waterfall that buzzed by me at dusk. Now its machinery, steel and smoke that weaves its way into the atmosphere and into my dreams. I don't believe in ordinary things. They don't exist. I've seen a glimpse of reality, and it doesn't look like a Monday or a Wednesday. I try to remember this, when my life slows down or gets caught up in routines. And one of the most intriguing and mysterious thoughts I've had in all of this is that the first time we met, was meant to be. You were put there in my path because you had a gift for me, a piece of the puzzle I am trying to solve with all of my life and power. There are no strangers. Every being has a mission, and no one on earth is alone.