"This web of time — the strands of which approach one another, 
bifurcate, intersect or ignore each other through the centuries — 
embraces every possibility. We do not exist in most of them. 
In some you exist and not I, while in others I do, and you do not, 
and in yet others both of us exist. In this one, in which chance has
 favored me, you have come to my gate. In another, you, crossing 
the garden, have found me dead. In yet another, I say these very
 same words, but am an error, a phantom… Time is forever 
dividing itself toward innumerable futures… "

Jorge Luis Borges