Pausing to rest and savor the moment is important for recharging and recalibrating our minds and our moods. But when, exactly, was the first time you were taught to stop and smell the roses? Here, a story about one of the first times I was told to take in my surroundings alone.
This is a chronicle of the mingling of journeys; how, walking up and down the city blocks, snippets of voices ebb and flow; how, as ambient noise gains its voice, the personality of a city’s roads is revealed.
We spend a lot of time around strangers: on our commute, at the store, waiting for a friend on the street corner. While strangers rarely speak or touch, merely observing a stranger’s gestures and interactions can help us to redefine our own interactions with our closest friends and family.
The forgotten message—that which people either never noticed or no longer notice with the passage of time. Do objects still hold messages if (almost) no one reads them? If there is no longer a reader, is there no longer a meaning to the letters and words? Has the message lost its purpose?
Messages come in many forms: handwritten or typed, long or short, casual or elegant. What happens when a message is written without a specific person in mind? Who is meant to read it? We muse on the delight and nostalgia of coming across an unexpected note.
Our society is run by the concept of money. We work for money; we take leisure by spending money. We make judgements based on monetary value. With the pervasiveness of this disturbing trend, we must take a step back and examine the faults of such behavior.
Traveling is about more than the dream destination. The way we transport ourselves during our travels provides the perfect opportunity to engage our thoughts in idle wondering about the scenes that drift past the car or train window.
A walk in the countryside after lunch. You walk and walk along a path flanked by green fields of still unripe wheat, creating a slightly monotonous view. In the distance you notice a small vibrant spot of color. As you approach, you see something is going on. The feeling that you are in front of a canvas is growing. If looking at a canvas at a museum wall feels like being in front of a window to another world or mind, this feels like a frameless window at a random place. Like a casual layer of order in the middle of randomness. A meta-window – nature inside nature – gracefully displayed.
A small, fine line weaves across the sidewalk. So mundane, and quite easy to overlook, yet filled with unspoken intent.