The professor sat down at his desk, dipping his quill in the ink. But no words were formed, for he was at a lack of inspiration. The man turned and looked out the window. The winter snow blew heavily. He watched the snowflakes being guided separate ways by a force that they did not control.

“Alas, I understand!â€? Shouted the professor to nobody but himself.

And he set the quill to the paper, and began.

“As I sit here, trying to understand, the meaning of fate, life, destiny. I look at the snow, and see what it really is, people, the life of people. Everyone has a path already planned out for them, and our being guided blindly by an unknown force with greater significance then our own…â€?