When I was young, I used to watch my grandfather build card-towers in his study. He would take two cards and lean them against each other,
making an A shape without the horizontal stroke. Next to it, he would make another A-shape.
Over the top he would lay a single card, making a roof. He would make A after A, overlaying each,
until his desk supported a house of cards.

I had seen an ediface he had spent hours building fall down because someone
had shut a door on the other side of the house. Other times, these airy constructs fell down for
no perceptible reason at all.

He would look up at me from the ruins and say:
"You see this, son? For every mother who cursed God for her child dead in the road, for every father who ever cursed
the man who sent him away from the factory with no job, for every child who was ever born to pain and asked why,
this is the answer.
Our lives are like these things I build. Sometimes they fall down for a reason,
and sometimes they fall down for no reason at all."