The irrepressible thing about a moment, about creativity, is that standing there , you catch sight of something . A
minute ago you were just hiking or playing with the dog or enjoying the scent
of the rich humus beneath your feet and the small sounds brought to you by the
breeze moving its way through the forest.
When suddenly, maybe you find yourself looking down the street. You see the darker glistening places and the branches most reflecting light . You see all the individual leaves and their intricate serrated edges and outlines of veins and twigs and branches. You see how the sunlight is caught upon the fallen foliage , beckoning your notice .
Your mind's eye flashes it to you, as black and white .
When suddenly, maybe you find yourself looking down the street. You see the darker glistening places and the branches most reflecting light . You see all the individual leaves and their intricate serrated edges and outlines of veins and twigs and branches. You see how the sunlight is caught upon the fallen foliage , beckoning your notice .
Your mind's eye flashes it to you, as black and white .
As cropped this way or
that .
As thick creamy bright paint .
As thin terribly specific lithograph.
As
a video with a song all its own.
Until,just as suddenly , back you come. To the quiet summer's day. To the sunlight cresting the ridge. To the thundering of your dog as they run toward you . To the gurgling of the stream down the hill from the path .
Brought back, from all that possibility .
Until,just as suddenly , back you come. To the quiet summer's day. To the sunlight cresting the ridge. To the thundering of your dog as they run toward you . To the gurgling of the stream down the hill from the path .
Brought back, from all that possibility .
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