Did the snow bury your thumbtack?

Occasionally – most recently, swiveling down a whimsical trail in Hiroshima where snow fell softly from the heavens – I like to take more than a few moments to stare up at the sky and imagine myself on a map of the world. I like to think of a thumbtack being placed exactly where I am at that very instant, followed by a snapshot to capture the allure and composure of the passing pattern of time. As each snowflake deflects off my goggles and dances on my face, my thoughts meander off-trail to a place neither here nor there. It is so quiet I can almost hear the snowflakes whisper stories to each other as they accumulate one-by-one on the trees, creating a staggering beauty that is nearly impossible to process, yet is as easy on the eyes as anything Monet conceived.

Simple beauty, the best kind.

Thumbtacks may represent places we have been, or places we want to go, but it seems a bit silly to think these tacks are anything but plastic, simply marking a place and space in time. Our experiences and memories are what we truly take home. And sharing, experiencing, and reminiscing in them is what makes all this globetrotting so comfortingly endearing.

A Mountain in Hiroshima:

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