I come from advertising. My trade is to modify what people do. To persuade, to move, to push a decision. And almost always, anonymously. Millions of people change some aspect of their behavior because of an idea I came up with, without knowing I exist, without ever having asked me to speak to them.

That is a strange kind of power. And I’ve never been sure which side it falls on. Do people buy because I convinced them, or because it was already written that they were going to buy? Do I move them, or am I just arranging something that chance was going to do anyway? Luck or destiny. Who is really driving everyone else's behavior?

This piece takes that question and shrinks it down until it's small enough to look at. Instead of millions, twelve people. Instead of selling them something, making them meet. I left envelopes on the street—anonymous, unsigned, just like I leave a campaign in a public space. And I waited to see if the invisible hand would work. If twelve strangers would do exactly what I designed them to do.

The difference from my day job is that here, I give up knowing the outcome. In advertising, you measure everything. Here, you don't. The moment I let go of those envelopes, I became number thirteen—the one who sets up the game and stays on the outside. I don't know if the twelve showed up. I don't know if they wrote to each other, if they liked each other, if they scammed each other, or if nothing happened at all. I designed the cause and never saw the effect.

And that is where the honesty of the piece lies. Showing the gesture of the advertiser—moving people from the shadows—but stripping away the only thing that turns it into power: control over the ending. Only the question remains. If I moved something, was it me or was it destiny? And if I will never know, did I ever move anything at all?