In a strange turn of events a few weeks ago, during a critical conversation I was having, I had the sense that I was in the midst of a symphony played by the orchestra of the universe.
And as I held a few tense moments, I felt the pauses in the dissonant chords played, begging to be resolved into a consonance. The deceptive cadences that took its place, furthering the suspense.
Overwhelmingly, I am feeling as though I am a pawn in some grand cosmic production. Is nothing I do consequential? Determinism is an oft-explored concept, but never before have I felt it so grandly.
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