Small little things
There is a quaintness about small little things. They seem fragile and inconspicuous at first but more often than not have delicate details etched into them. It is as if they quietly ask for scrutiny because of their size. A scrutiny that would be unnecessary if they were a big thing.
The tiniest matrushka doll, a day old kitten's face, English miniatures displayed in a shop-window....these can have me gazing forever. I do not tire of seeking out each line of paint, each purple vein, each tiny dot....as the case in question possesses.
In short, I like small things....no not even small....little tiny things. Be it natural or created, I always find something more to appreciate in something which is tiny and catch myself marvelling at it. This maybe true because I have never been an ardent supporter of 'the bigger the better' genre of thinking. It is not just advertising...it is a way of life. It is a way of defining ones self. So given the choice between a whale of a time or some quiet precious moments I would predictably choose the latter.
The tiniest matrushka doll, a day old kitten's face, English miniatures displayed in a shop-window....these can have me gazing forever. I do not tire of seeking out each line of paint, each purple vein, each tiny dot....as the case in question possesses.
In short, I like small things....no not even small....little tiny things. Be it natural or created, I always find something more to appreciate in something which is tiny and catch myself marvelling at it. This maybe true because I have never been an ardent supporter of 'the bigger the better' genre of thinking. It is not just advertising...it is a way of life. It is a way of defining ones self. So given the choice between a whale of a time or some quiet precious moments I would predictably choose the latter.
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