life passes by in a blur
like a stream under a bridge
as i look down on the bridge
not really looking
the eye focused inward
focused inward, mulling over the intricacies of our lives
the bleakness, the sameness
the facades and follies
but purest of all, the sublime beauties. the small joys and accidental pieces of art created by our environment. the small happinesses and joys of the people around us. spreading like a virus, tinting our inner eye with a honey coloured lense.
it's not all bad when you stop to smell the flowers. or the rivers. the subtle scent of acrid smoke. the overpowering sweetness of a drink. the illustrious subtleties in the most basic of architectures surrounding us.