Life is the art of managing the unexpected, I guess.

No matter how routine based are your days, there will always be space within the twenty-four laps of the hours pointer (curiously twenty five, today) for surprise.

And this is a great thing in itself. Imagine our days being all the same, a routine check list of time, places and people. How uninteresting would our transit through existence be... how boring.. even if shielded by material comfort. 

I am well aware that I am a lucky human. Of course, a vast majority of my equals has had to thrive from birth - and with all due probability to death -, with living conditions that cannot bear even the slightest comparaison with those I have always enjoyed. For these, mumbling about uncertainty and chance, would sound  futile and outlandish, to say the least, for their lives are daily determined by exactly such variables.

Still we all are entitled to our own little world. The one we frame, limit, define, even if uncounciously, around ourselves. And It is against its backdrop that, in general, our perceptions and expressions are built upon and/or expanded as we unfold the history of our days, time and time again, following the march of the seasons, and the rotation of our planet.

And chance, the unexpected, has once again, intervened in my my small world: a couple of days ago, while going through one of my most pleasure driven routines, my early morning walk, I was hit by chance: I stupidly misjudged a small obstacle in my way and took a nasty fall which resulted in a fractured fibula and the need to undergo surgery in the very near future.

For this reason I will be interrupting, for a longish while, I presume, the updating on this blog, which I will turn back to as soon as conditions allow It.

Untill then, I will still be eagearly waiting for the telltale sounds of a bike iddling by my door and the flap of my letterbox being pushed back down...

That's the time to say "Thank you, Mr. Postman!"