Just over a month ago, I put up a post about some street art of a strikingly beautiful lady that I’ve been noticing in the city lately.
This artist paints in a similar style, and the girls all look very alike, but I can’t tell if they’re supposed to be of the same person or not.
Regardless, when I find her, or them, or rather, when they find me, I am caught in a moment of stunned awe:
And then I focus, and compose myself, and bring myself closer to really observe and appreciate and capture what it is that I’ve been given:
It happened again this past Sunday, while longboarding down the railway path, my hair whipping in the wind, en-route to the beer store for park wobblies in the sun. A near bye mockingbird, if it had not flown away, would have had a new song to sing, as I literally yelped and squealed with joy:
Each time really does feel like a gift that has been presented to me as a reward or recognition for something that I’m not even sure I’ve achieved.
I don’t know why, or how she keeps finding me, or whether I’ll get to experience more, but I already feel a great sense of gratitude for the number I’ve come across.