Even riding a bike is to fast to take in the details of the world around me. When I walk I notice the smell of places. I notice the details of the flowers in bloom. I see and hear birds everywhere. Hoping on fences, poised over porches, floating on power lines and chasing each other. I notice art. Everywhere there are small and large bits of art. Art in the composition of a garden, in the placement of a found object, in the love and detail of how we arrange our world.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Going slowly
Even riding a bike is to fast to take in the details of the world around me. When I walk I notice the smell of places. I notice the details of the flowers in bloom. I see and hear birds everywhere. Hoping on fences, poised over porches, floating on power lines and chasing each other. I notice art. Everywhere there are small and large bits of art. Art in the composition of a garden, in the placement of a found object, in the love and detail of how we arrange our world.
