Words & Snapshots of Life
Wandering my way back to campus the other day after taking a bus ride to hunt down a vegan doughnut (which I got for free), I accidentally passed by the spot Corinne and I took pictures at for this post. We had stumbled upon it accidentally the first time we found it and had felt straight up magic swirling around the alley with its ivy covered walls and crumbling charm.
Seeing it today was a whole different story.
The vines that had once reached upwards, on the off chance that the sun decided to show its face in Seattle, were now halfheartedly torn and chopped. Some roots had withstood the demolition, but they looked naked and out of place. Sun was casting shadows off the jagged edges of its freshly torn flesh and made an intricate pattern on the exposed brick.
I can't help but pull a lesson out of this experience (my dad can make a lesson out of almost anything that happens and I'm starting to follow in his footsteps). As I was walking away from the decaying beauty, I realized that if Corinne and I had decided to walk away from that spot, we would never have had the chance to go back and capture it. It's possible that no one would have ever seen it again or encapsulated the magic permanently through the eye of a camera lens.
It's a magical thing to create memories out of ordinary daily events, trials, adventures and realizations. It's so easy to want to document only the things that made us gasp with amazement, but I think it's healthy to start finding/enjoying/documenting/sharing the joy we find in the littlest of events. The way light falls on a windowsill, the lopsided grin of someone you love, the way a stack of crates is leaning up against a building- these are all beautiful and share-able.
On a kind of related sidenote: not wearing makeup and not even knowing where my brush is anymore is a pretty freeing way of living. And I highly suggest it.
So, as I say over and over- go out there into this big scary, beautiful world and
b e i n s p i r e d.