“Stepping across the masks like fallen leaves in Autumn, leaving them behind with a twinge of regret, but only a little.” – Steven Tryon
It wasn’t just a pile of leaves you jumped into as a child. It wasn’t just puddle of water that you splashed at your sister on your way home from school. It never is “just” something normal or mundane. Those rocks have faces, the clouds have bears, and the trees whisper to each other when ever the wind blows.
That was my state of mind as a child, although I still sometimes have to look twice.