367 Time Ticks on for the Artist

Over the next few days, life went on. It always did. No matter what happened, time ticked on. The sun continued to rise. The wind continued to rustle through the trees. The birds continued to chirp.

Though, as Yujia noticed, the birds were quieter now. It was winter, far different than the sounds and sights of springtime. These were tiny details that she picked up, like how the birds abandoned their nests, one-by-one, in migration. She didn't pay attention to these details of nature as carefully before, not unless she was sitting down and painting.

On quiet mornings, as she gathered her courage and will to face the day ahead, she discovered that noticing the smaller things— birds and the like— brought her mind to a state of tranquility. It helped her, so she continued.