hello darkness, my old friend

- Will you smile if I admit I was wrong?
- About what?
- Miracles.
Events with astronomical odds of occurring, like oxygen turning into gold... I've longed to witness such an event, and yet I neglect that in human coupling, millions upon millions of cells compete to create life, for generation after generation, until finally, your mother loves a man. Edward Blake, the comedian. A man she has every reason to hate, and out of that contradiction, against unfathomable odds it's you - only you - that emerged. To distill so specific a form, from all that chaos...
Is like turning air into gold.
A miracle.
And so I was wrong.
Now dry your eyes, and let's go home.

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