I've been finding myself at this wall. It's a sort of brick wall, kind of pretty in the way brick can be. It has these cracks in it. They are old cracks. You can tell they are old from the way the dust and dirt is settled into the broken parts. At a first glance the cracks make me almost want to look away. Some days I guess I do. They just seem too…at home.
But then I look closer, the closer I look at the cracks and broken pieces I notice that in the time I focused on the cracks I almost missed the best part. I completely missed seeing the way the cracks brought the wall to life. Without them to create shadows, and depth, and character, well it would just be a wall, a brick wall.
I have the feeling if I can let go of the worry and angst of the imperfections on this brick wall something magical would happen. That maybe vines of beautiful flowers could grow through the space left in the cracks and create a mass of beauty. Or maybe, maybe even more cracks would appear and one day just finally take the damn wall down and expose the hidden life behind it.
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