The Art That Is Life
Today I noticed the cracks in the eggplant that I’d photographed, that remind me of smile lines on the face of someone who has smiled a hundred thousand times. I saw the light that streams through the window in my office. My office is in what’s meant to be the dining area of our apartment. But space is limited, so one thing becomes another. And the kitchen is slowly taking over everything.
This is where I work. This is where we live. And I love it. I love our space, the crowded rooms, the treasures and photos. Life that has become art.
I don’t know if it’s the music I’ve been listening to today, the books I’ve been reading, or just one of those times where I’m caught up in a wave of… I don’t know what to call it… Art. Simplicity. Beauty. Life.
It makes me want to sit out on the patio in the warm afternoon sun, or the cool evening shade. With my eyes closed, just listening to the leaves on the trees as they rustle in the wind. Never drowning out the sound of the freeway that’s so close, but conspiring with it to sound even more like the ocean and less like cars racing by, people on their way to everywhere.
It makes me want to see steam rising from a loaf of bread, a bowl of cherries sitting on the counter, fresh pasta laying out to dry.
And as I’m typing these things here I can’t help by whisper, “this is my life”. Not in a braggy, yay for me, look at me sense. Simply in a humbled, wowed, appreciating the little moments kinda way.
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