I have to admit, my kind of Nashville tired makes things look different. Makes me think different, too. Different on top of different; you know what I mean.
Working my way around town between Music City Center and LP Field on a schedule that didn’t allow for fancy photo ops, I went ahead one evening and booked the time. There’s quite a bit of fascination to be found if you’re inclined to look.
I found a break with some lead-in art stuffed behind what seemed to be a white cube-truck turned smoker. At least that what it smelled like, which was way nicer than any usual back alley, between buildings smells.
It’s amazing that some things are exactly the same, and that some things just weren’t there before. Strolling the Walk of Fame revealed a few added star blocks, some pretty plantings, and cement balls. Serious. Spherical, smooth, perfectly placed, cool-to-the-touch cement balls.
I can’t decide if they were decorative or purposeful or some combination of the two. They seemed to strategically block potential drive-on attempts, but then again, food trucks, trailers, stages, booths were established past them. Maybe they were movable. I didn’t check; star struck by light-play, stuck-tired by round craft, confused by tempor.
I sort of fell in love with them. I’m sure I looked a little loony crouched for the best angle, fighting an emotional surge of tears for bittersweet beauty.
The medium is well-known, long-term unstable, temperamental, temporary. Cracks are to be expected. Dust-wear. Crumble. Dissolve. Replacement. Not a long-term choice.
We’ve seen what happens to it on the walks and drives of life. Rarely keeping shape, settling, bulging, lifting, sinking. None of these surprise us, and we no longer cow to superstitious childhood fears because backs don’t actually break.
We don’t hard-core worry about cracks or divots, unless we’re moving over ignored terrain. We hesitate a second, considering slightly larger craters – construction grown, anomalies of frost, or weakened with wear or by age. Our season gauges size and significance or insignificance.
We pass over, accommodate and navigate around and through these easily accepted imperfections.
Rote faith. No big deal.
Life’s like that. Beautiful. Temporary. Cement.
Quote for the Week:
Enjoy This Week’s Discovery Links:
DYI Cement Globes: http://www.thegardenglove.com/diy-concrete-garden-globes/
Life Changes: http://zenhabits.net/changes/