disclaimer: its past my bedtime. i'm about to get wierd and nerdy. mostly i just find this building beautiful and wanted to share this small moment. feel free to ignore the rest of this post. it probably doesn't make sense and . . . grammer . . . well, grammer was just not around for this one.
i instituted a new ritual a few months ago. each week i take an hour or two out of a work day to sit and admire this city's architecture. some days i leave inspired and some days i walk away disillusioned.
Today i settled into a spot at the bar at Novo, straight across the Paramount theatre. i sipped my latte and, for a moment, watched small drops of rain make their way to street and sidewalks and cars and the tops of the heads of the people flitting about on their way to this or that place. and then i stared, probably too long, across the street. i didn't care that i might have looked a bit daft. and i hardly took note of the dull, flat aesthetic of the adjacent structure. i didn't care because this building, small as it is, in all of its art deco glory, seemed to be staring me down.
something about ornate exteriors, the minds that dreamed and the hands that executed, makes me feel this way. without eyes they stare, without fingers they grab, without lungs they breathe, without voices they sing and shout and sometimes just whisper. it likely seems odd to say that, but i don't know how else to put it.
Today i settled into a spot at the bar at Novo, straight across the Paramount theatre. i sipped my latte and, for a moment, watched small drops of rain make their way to street and sidewalks and cars and the tops of the heads of the people flitting about on their way to this or that place. and then i stared, probably too long, across the street. i didn't care that i might have looked a bit daft. and i hardly took note of the dull, flat aesthetic of the adjacent structure. i didn't care because this building, small as it is, in all of its art deco glory, seemed to be staring me down.
something about ornate exteriors, the minds that dreamed and the hands that executed, makes me feel this way. without eyes they stare, without fingers they grab, without lungs they breathe, without voices they sing and shout and sometimes just whisper. it likely seems odd to say that, but i don't know how else to put it.
suffice it to say, today i left feeling inspired, inspired to make all the work of my hands beautiful so that everything i do becomes a reflection of the Beautiful One.
