I live in a neighborhood where it’s not unusual to see lots of people out and about at 7am on a Sunday morning. So when I first walked by Richard and his notepad, I paid him no notice.

Richard was sitting on a park bench this Sunday morning, staring up at the sky for a few seconds and then scribbling some notes on his notepad after that. He kept repeating this activity for the five minutes I was in the park, and judging from the torn-out pages sitting next to him, he had been doing this for quite some time.

My curiosity eventually got the better of me, and I asked if I could see his notes.

Each page was covered with dozens of short nouns, some mundane (ball), some extravagant (candelabra), many repeated (dog). Dozens and dozens of words on at least five or six pages.

Richard explained: this morning, he decided to come outside and stare at the clouds, and write down whatever shape he could see in every single cloud in the sky. For the past hour, he had been diligently scouring the sky for every cottony wisp, seeing everyday objects in each one.

His reason:

“Sometimes you just need to let your mind go and see things you hadn’t seen before.”

I concurred.

Around us, joggers hurtled by, exercising their bodies. Richard and I sat in the park exercising our imaginations.

(Photo by Jim/code poet.)