Last Friday I looked through my picture folder for one I could use in a story, and I came across this one.

I grinned at the picture, for some reason it feels very whimsical to me.

Then I thought to myself, “This bird is probably long dead.”

I became sad for a moment and reflected on that thought. Then I grabbed my laptop, knowing I had to start writing this blog.

I realized in a flash that this picture isn’t about the bird or about me or about the pavement that has grass between it. The picture isn’t about the location it was taken at, or the date or any other criteria.

The picture is a moment. I froze it in time by taking the picture.

It makes me think of pictures from my childhood that made me so sad I threw them out.

Those pictures aren’t the me that is writing this blog post. The picture on top of this post isn’t the bird.

The moment the bird took another step, my life continued, as did the life of the bird, unobserved by me.

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