Late last week I was laying with my dad under the tree I grew up climbing in my parents' back yard. Overstuffed from too many corn cobs and mashed potatoes, we let the vengeful mosquitoes have their way with us. He’d been telling me that the moon is the reason the leaves change color and fall from their branches each year as I complained that I’m never able to notice the sky turn from grey to black.
Clouds began to swarm us. They changed shape slowly, simultaneously. If the world were a concert hall, it was like the clouds were the audience and we the main act.
It got me thinking about how nothing seems to change from day to day, but when we look back, everything is different and we don't know how we got from one place to the next.
It got me thinking about how nothing seems to change from day to day, but when we look back, everything is different and we don't know how we got from one place to the next.
it's true, there's a transition we can never seem to capture. it's sometimes frustrating but i find it fascinating as well.
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