Most of the time, I don't know why something catches my attention. I just know that it does.

 

A raspberry wrapped in a leaf, passing from one hand to another. A childhood balloon in a closet that mysteriously refuses to deflate. A falcon no one else seems to see. The sound of paper. A fly that turns into a question.

 

If I stay with it long enough, sometimes a door opens into love, or loss, or wonder, and the stories we tell ourselves about who we are.

 

It’s usually the smallest moments - the kind that vanish before you can name them – that quietly invite you to notice your own life differently.

 

Sometimes, I walk past them.

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I’m glad when I don't.​

 

Hanna Perlberger​

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