I think it poured last Friday.

Nevertheless, it was one of those days in which the snails come out from the grassy areas to prevent being flooded out (I think).

Somehow, I spent a good half an hour observing one of them, wondering why it is so far out from the grassy area, a good 3 feet from the green border, putting itself highly at risk with the stampedes of unwatching giants and two-wheeled tanks.

I was quietly amazed, at how this creature survived in this evolutionary world. So vulnerable with its (lack of) speed. And its shell isn't really exactly that hard against the falling skies of rubber soles, painfully witnessed from its many crushed compatriots along the pavement.

As I stood wishing under my breath that it would quickly crawl back into the safe green zone, it really started to move! Edging towards the straight border of the cold hard pavement, leaving behind a slimy trail. So slow that it was almost unnoticeable, but the square cement tiles helped. And I wondered if it ever felt it was slow; because I was getting so worried myself that it might not make it back in time before another bicycle comes along into its path.

Slowly, but surely, it was heading in the right direction.

But to my horror a few moments later (ie 10 minutes, but a few moments from the snail's perspective), it started to turn 90 degrees, putting itself on a very much longer route towards home after travelling about 1 feet from the original position.

I panicked.

And felt so helpless.

Could I help by using a leaf to poke it back into the correct direction? Or even let it crawl onto the leaf and bring it to safety? I was even contemplating just grabbing it and putting it back into the grass.

My eyes were transfixed on the snail. And to my relief, it started to turn another 45 degress back to a diagonal route towards home. Nature works in such marvellous ways.

I had to leave after the 30 minute drama, and hope that it gets home safely.

Goal in mind. Passion in heart. Surely, even if slowly, you'll get there.