There is never a big thing that complicates anything. It’s always something very small, the little nail that gets stuck in the tyre and punctures it, the little tremor that goes on to cause an earthquake, the one word that changes the course of history.
Complications are like jenga blocks... building slowly, bearing and unsaying until someday when the tipping point comes, crumble as if they never existed. And you never remember what lead it to fall in the first place.
Why does it happen that sometimes words fall so short that whatever comes out of the mouth is always not the right thing?
Why does it happen that it’s never meant a certain way but presumptions lead it to being exactly the way we presume?
Why after one hiccup there are a series that follow?
Life’s too short for chess (I read that somewhere today) ....
Life’s too short for playing games, you never know when they will start playing you.