Sometimes I see beauty everywhere and I wonder if I'm a bit crazy. I mean, the lines in this old wooden door, the texture, the diagonals, they fascinate me.
But would normal people even care? It is, in fact, just an old door. Whatever paint was once on it has long since cracked and peeled and chipped and weathered away. I'm sure if you ran your hand over it you'd come away with fingerfuls of splinters.
Maybe it's enough that I find it lovely. This blog is not a democracy. (No one ever elected me.) But still, I'd be interested to hear what you think. Is there beauty in the mundane?