Noticing things.

Some days I am aware of the skin between my toes, while most days this area goes unattended. One day, I'll suddenly feel that there are eight distinct little cul de sacs down there, awash in sprinkler water at times, dry and bare at other times, mostly hidden in a perpetual stuffy night of tennis shoes or heels, and then I'll think about my toes all day. I'll notice that they feel cool and wiggly and soft, and I'll wonder why I don't pay more attention to them.

I saw a large yellow and black butterfly today in my father's verbena, and I felt like I was seeing a butterfly for the first time. It seemed so strange and unnatural, more like origami sprung to life or eerily animated tissue paper than an actual bug. I had to stop and stare at it and remind myself that I'm not visiting a foreign planet. This is earth, and butterflies are mundane occurences here. But sometimes they seem alien and new.