We cannot see how our lives will unfold. What is destiny and What is accident? And how can one ever be certain?

Dear Maya,Life is an illusion.And as it turns out, so is death.What is real?What remains when we all fade away?Two things: Love. Forgiveness.Don't forget

I stand up. Stretch my arms out wide to theempty horizon. Do not be afraid of limitlesspossibilities. The desert is infinite to the eyeas love is to the heart.

Listen, Miss, boats are supposed to float. Even if they break up, they usually still float and show up on a shore somewhere. There have been no reports of wreckage or abandoned boats. At this point, no news is still good news. Don't worry. It's too early to worry.

When we tell our stories, the gods hear our sorrows.

I listen to the sound of India's voices for the last time . Laughter ripples like water . A prayer is a single note held long . There is so much life here . And too much death.I feel a soft brezze caress my face and I look up. An orange ribbon is floating through the air . In India , it's easy to see the wind .