I have a thing for paths.
I love them. I love paths that lead to things and away from things. I love stone paths, brick paths, dirt paths, paths through the woods, paths to someone’s front door. While everyone else is look around them, I’m looking down at the path, and forward, to where the path disappears.
I love paths that go straight ahead and just end up fading away, but my favorite ones are the ones that bend, making me wonder what’s around the next corner. If it’s just more path, never fear, because that’s awesome too!
I have tons of pictures of paths on my computer. I don’t know when my obsession with paths started. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t always like this. I don’t remember always looking at paths like this. My ever-patient husband and friends are used to me stopping abruptly, pulling out my phone or camera, and waiting for other people (if there are any) to move out of camera range. Then click! another picture of a path.
Something about them inspires me. I wonder what’s ahead, even if I know what’s ahead. I wonder where they lead, even if I know that answer. Paths are possibility. One of these days, it might not go where I think it will, and I’ll end up in a strange land, populated by chronically late rabbits, by mythical creatures, or witches with crooked noses looking to bespell. The point isn’t whether or not it’s actually going to happen, but whether it tickles my imagination enough for me to wonder if it could.
So I’ll keep taking pictures of paths and wondering where they lead.