a taxonomy of signs

There are those happy constellations of events out of which one can infer deeper meaning, particularly if given to a literary bent. By these I mean those circumstances under which the sighting of place names or allusions to books, people, or cultural trends confirm the secret plans, the wisps of desire, the half-formed hopes to which we have yet to give voice. We see in them what we want to see, seeking confirmation outside ourselves.

And then there are those coincidences that come upon us suddenly, speaking in softer tones and so different in scope and imagination from the life we'd imagined for ourselves that those other signs cheapen in comparison. From these latter, I can only surmise that the universe intends that I do something related to China. Or perhaps Toronto.