underfoot
A field of stars in a single footstep. Perhaps in each tiny, green point, an entire complicated system of energy and reproduction and survival. How many stories are there? Yours and mine and everyone else's and then--the entire, complex universe. Ideas are not the problem, that is never the problem. It's the culling, the choosing; the question of which story and when. As another September arrives, choose the story that is just underfoot, the one you cannot quite understand, that seems too big and too small all at once.
