...and maybe every thing does matter. especially those seemingly insignificant moments. like when those kids in Paris jumped through a boundless sky and landed in the canal’s embrace. and the Mack’s and I laughed at our thirty-seventh dinner together until our hearts decided that we should cry as well. knowing how magnanimous the present is in gifting us the skin and marrow to make memories by hand. by the locking of eyes. by lips. on the glass holding the contents of your favorite cocktail. just another little thing. a small whisper reminding you that you are often in reach of something good. even when your spirit dares to tell you otherwise.