More often than not, a beacon of hope doesn't always look like what we think it should, or what we expect. Usually, hope is a tiny change in the wind. It starts small and is hardly visible. We are more likely to miss the subtle signs at the beginning, more likely to overlook the chance to nurture such a delicately small proof of life in a cause. Hope begins as a rumor, a piece of gossip, or a polite interaction with a stranger at the bus terminal. It's a promise that the future is not as bleak as believed because if this one thoughtful stranger exists, then surely, thousands more exist in different places. And if you can see and appreciate that, then others can see them too and maybe, just maybe, like you, decide to pay it forward. Hope is random. Hope is unexpected. Hope starts small. Hope is soft and quiet.