Yesterday the smell of a hot summer Sunday afternoon made its way into my house, accusing me of being indoors.
Not just for letting a gorgeous day pass me by, but letting so many opportunities to be inspired go by. Being outside could have led to so many creative inspirations.
The sound of birds singing on the tune of the wind’s whisper through the leaves while a single sunray sneaks through them could have inspired me to write about the perfect harmony in which they create a wonderful display for me to watch.
The pale pink skirt of a young girl feeding a gray dove close to the clear pond surrounded by a sea of green grass could have inspired me to plant thick blobs of rainbow-coloured oil paint on a canvass.
A solitary old man reading his newspaper on a park bench beneath an oak tree could have inspired to me use the light on his face and the shadows in his eyes to my advantage in capturing the scene on film, creating a picture worth a thousand words.
But I didn’t write anything.
I didn’t paint anything.
I didn’t photograph anything.
Instead, I was sitting indoors, wondering why I didn’t feel inspired to write or paint or take pictures.
Not just for letting a gorgeous day pass me by, but letting so many opportunities to be inspired go by. Being outside could have led to so many creative inspirations.
The sound of birds singing on the tune of the wind’s whisper through the leaves while a single sunray sneaks through them could have inspired me to write about the perfect harmony in which they create a wonderful display for me to watch.
The pale pink skirt of a young girl feeding a gray dove close to the clear pond surrounded by a sea of green grass could have inspired me to plant thick blobs of rainbow-coloured oil paint on a canvass.
A solitary old man reading his newspaper on a park bench beneath an oak tree could have inspired to me use the light on his face and the shadows in his eyes to my advantage in capturing the scene on film, creating a picture worth a thousand words.
But I didn’t write anything.
I didn’t paint anything.
I didn’t photograph anything.
Instead, I was sitting indoors, wondering why I didn’t feel inspired to write or paint or take pictures.
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