When many roads will appear to you and you won't know which to take, don't choose randomly, but sit and wait. Breathe deeply with the trusting depth you breathed the day in which you were born to the world, don't get distracted by anything, wait and wait some more, stay in silence and listen to your heart. And when it speaks, get up and go where it tells you to.
When the road behind you is longer that the one you have ahead o you, you notice something you never saw before: the path you took wasn't straight but full of crossings, every step had an arrow indicating a different direction; from there started a lane, from there a grassy trail that lost itself in the woods. One of these byways you took not noticing, some other you hadn't even seen; those you ignored you have no idea where they would've taken you, if in a better or worse place; you don't know but equally you feel regret. You could've done something and you didn't, you went back instead of going on. Snakes and ladders, do you remember that game? Life more or less is the same way. Along the crossroads of your life you'll meet other lives, to know them or not to know them, to live them or not to live them completely or to leave them all together depends only on the choice of a moment; even if you don't know it, between going straight or deviating you often gamble your existence, that of who is next to you.
You know what mistake is constantly made? That of believing that life can't be changed, that once taken a track you must follow it through to the end. Fate is more creative than that. Just when you think you're in a dead-end situation, when you reach a peak of desperation, with the speed of a gust of wind everything changes, it's overwhelmed, and from a moment to the next you find yourself in the middle of a new life.
Every evening at exactly eleven o'clock, anywhere you are and in any situation, I'll go outside and in the sky I'll look for Sirius. You shall do the same so our thoughts, even if we should be miles away, even if we haven't seen each other in a long time and ignore everything of each other, will meet up there and be close...
When you hold things against each other, you're not in a two-way relationship anymore, but in a three-way: you, me and the worm that has started gnawing away at our story. In matter's obscurity, worms work with discretion, digging tunnels for years and, apart from some minor itchiness, you don't realize anything. Then one day you lay a cup on the table and the wood breaks, collapsing and in a moment, the sturdy surface you knew becomes a pile of soft sawdust.