Then my perspective shifted. Instead of seeing the view outside, I noticed something else: lines. So many lines.

The very thing that made the truck undesirable also made it visually compelling.

Worms are a wonderful example of harmony, particularly harmony with nature.

What looks like a kind of prison from the outside is actually a boundary that serves them, keeping them safe and settled.

“Home is where the heart is” sounds cliché, but I’ve found it to be true.

Each time it disappeared before I could get a good shot, I found myself wondering if it would come back at all.

Life is like a puzzle.
There are many pieces, and they come together slowly, through time, trial, and error.

It had been crushed by a closing door some time ago. Now it was stuck to the inside of the door frame with its bright red belly facing up, as if it were sunning itself.

It’s a pattern easily found in nature, in rippled water and sliced tree trunks.

I swiftly merged onto the highway like a blood cell exiting a vein for an artery.

Spring is the season of birth and the soil is where it starts.

I nudged it with my foot and could feel the weight of its innards shift around inside.

Loss is a facilitator of gratitude.

Had it not been preserved and presented to the viewer as a single static image, the moment might have been overlooked.