I find it incredibly strange/coincidental/possibly miraculous that I spent a good bit of time last night writing a post about perfection, magic, and freedom, and I woke up this morning to a scenario that was perfect, magical, and essentially a visual metaphor of freedom.
You see, I’ve been thinking an awful lot lately about colors, and more specifically, how the composition of colors in a given scene can be the difference between indescribable beauty and a ridiculous mess of garbage. And then, when I walked out my front door this morning, I was greeted with this almost unbelievable scene: