Where does inspiration come from?
Each day I walk my dog. Each day, we watch leaves turning colors, growing or falling. I see the rivers’ levels rising and falling with passing storms and seasons. Vandalism occurs, and is wiped away. Giant trees fall, leaving gaping holes in the canopy. Smaller trees fill in, while the fallen wither from within thanks to termites. Mushrooms and giant puffballs sprout as if overnight, and are gone almost as soon.
These, to me, are everyday magic. I might not like each change, but still they come, and I am forced to notice them. Until I don’t, and they’re “the normal” once more. Like magic, no?