- the sparkles of mica in the concrete, and how they look like little shards of stardust
- the way the 2:40pm sunlight always disperses and creates a rainbow on that one road sign as i walk home every day
- the way lovers hold each other: one’s arms wrapped around the other’s neck, from behind, lovingly, gently, comfortingly... the other melting into them . . .
- the way bright white lights fade to a glitched rainbow at the edges ... chromatic aberration, in real life
- how people that obviously love each other constantly trade teases and lighthearted insults, but you always see them following each other around and texting each other for help on assignments or homework - despite being able to contact literally anyone else... they are so obviously in love. it doesn’t matter what kind
- how people who are related, even if they don’t look much alike on the surface, are so similar. how they roll their eyes and make exaggerated gesticulations the same way, how they have the same speaking mannerisms. how they don’t even realize it.
- when the sunlight filtering through your blinds suddenly changes color, from a dull gray to a warm and loving golden-orange. that caught me by surprise.
- how the 1:00pm light dances upon the roof, like ripples through water, obstructed occasionally by the moving shadows of passing students
- the way the golden-hour sun makes everything feel soft and whole; how it kisses your cheeks and fills your entire being with a warmth, something akin to the comfort of home and the hearth and love.
- when your watch catches light, and casts a glint along every surface, dancing along as you move your wrist... and how, at the right angle, the edges of the light turn into rainbows
- how, when you place your finger about the sun, the brilliant light shatters into shards of golden rainbows and stars around your fingertip
- after the rain subsides and the 4pm sun illuminates the orange autumn leaves with a golden glow... it’s otherworldly.
- the way the early afternoon sunlight wavers through shadow, like a heavenly curtain blind
- how quickly the world changes within the blink of an eye
- the streaking path of an airplane, marked by a trail of cloud and dreams, like a shooting star headed towards the center of the sun
- sparkly snowflakes hung up on bushes and low tree branches, glinting in the overripe sun ... a calling to your soul
- whispering to your sister, in the dark, right before you fall asleep, “take off your mask.” you don’t need to wear it anymore around me. rest.
- when someone leaves sweet little notes on chairs, desks, papers, boards, for someone else to find them
- walking through a nearly empty grocery store after its closing time (oops)
- smiling & waving at a little plush dragon someone placed on their mailbox as i walk home every day. once i picked it up when i saw it had fallen
- update: it is now 09.24.23 and two weeks ago, a huge storm blew through our area and when i walked home the next day, the plush was gone. i’d been seeing it for two years, since january 2022, and i was devastated that i had never really gotten a picture of it nor looked at it closely. i wasn’t even sure if it was a dragon or not.
- it was missing for the next week and a half and i almost felt obliged to tell the family there that i knew they placed a plushie on their mailbox and that it made my day every time i passed by, but i never found the courage to do it. i wanted to ask if they’d found it or if it was gone forever.
- then two days ago - on a friday, the utmost of fridays - it was there again, and i’m not exaggerating when i say that brought so much relief and happiness when i caught glimpse of it again, a pink and battered plushie on a roadside mailbox. i finally looked closer at it, and it is in fact a horse, not a dragon
- and i also took a picture of it. i learned my lesson
- seeing two dandelion fluffs floating on the breeze as you walk home... whiffs of another’s breath. i wonder what they wished for.
- 12am; you’re rinsing the leftover dishes when — in your peripheral, a flicker of white — you turn, and it’s a moth flitting at your kitchen window; as if it’s been sent from another realm, mystical creature of the night, to catch you at your most mundane.
- puffs of willow cotton twirling down & rippling the lake’s surface; blooming rings of water
- when you look through a window expecting to see through the glass, but all you’re met with is your own reflection
- pencil-scribbled notes from years gone by in geometry textbooks, like little hints purposefully left behind — a message to all in the future that struggle: “don’t worry, i struggled here, too”
- the sound of strange, distant, soothing rumbles and whirrings of trains and vehicles driving far away at night; somewhere in the darkness a father comes home, somewhere illuminated by street lamps the car of a family returns from a late-night flight. the quiet humming of other’s lives, distant enough to feel safe yet enough to feel as if the world breathes even in the night.
- the vague beauty of not really understanding every word when you’re watching a live performance but getting everything out of it nonetheless
- a flower crown from a few months ago, once thriving and blooming like sunlight - but now shrunken and hollow, a husk of dry leaves
oct 21 2021 ∞
may 4 2024 +