You?' is all I can manage to choke out. 'Always me,' she replies softly, bashfully. 'Who else?

My first impulse is not to grab her or kiss her or yell at her. I simple want to touch her cheek, still flushed from the night's performance. I want to cut through the space that separates us, measured in feet-not miles, not continents, not years-and to take a callused finger to her face.

Or maybe it's not a miracle. Maybe this is just life. When you open yourself up to it. When you put yourself in the path of it. When you say yes.

I think everything is happening all the time, but if you don't put yourself in the path of it, you miss it.

Nothing happens without intention, Willem. Nothing. This theory of yours - life is rules by accidents - isn't that just one huge excuse for passivity?

The music is the void. And you're the reason why.

Sometimes you can only feel something by its absence. By the empty spaces it leaves behind.