One cold but sunny morning last week, I was walking to the bus stop, eyes sweeping the ground before my feet. It’s how I usually walk—it’s a constant struggle to keep my eyes forward or up unless there’s something amazing to stare at. And being the familiar walk to the bus stop, the ground my eyes poured over was the same ground I had poured over for hundreds, if not thousands, of times.
But for some reason, on this day, the cracks in the pavement snagged my eyes. I wonder what people think of these cracks.
My first thought was: of course, people see them as eyesores. They’re signs that something’s breaking, symbols that the streets are unkept. Little bits of dead plants get caught in them and cover the smooth pavement beneath. And these are just the fine lines.
But quickly on the heels of that: actually, maybe some people are fond of them (though find me a person who would admit to that.) Most of the fissures stick around for years, so they can’t truly be such nuisances. They break the monotony of the sidewalk grid, the perfectly perpendicular lines that repeat themselves predictably. They lead the eye to new corners, instead of drawing it forever towards the horizon. And it’s actually quite adorable when they sprout little tufts of life, like tiny hills and mounds of lush greenery.
That’s when I consciously realized that cracks provide the necessary energy for change, for chance, for something new. Otherwise, wouldn’t everything stay static and boring forever?