This little shell sits on the shelf in my flat. We picked it up on a trip to Greece. It was on our third island and tenth beach of the trip. A beach we happened to happen upon. A beautiful little, secluded enclave. Tens of millions of little rocks, shells and stones just like it across this beach. And on every other beach we visited. And yet we picked this one up. And we kept it. We took it with us on our journey home, back through the three islands and back on a plane across Europe. And now it sits in our flat, this tiny little shell from the most obscure of places. There's a familiarity for me in this little shell. Sometimes it's nice to remember just how small and just how unlikely we are, and to enjoy the fact that, despite the longest of odds, here we are.