You’re walking, and- suddenly you realize you’re walking. You’re now aware of the miracle, that you can swing your legs forward and land gracefully with the palm of your foot, that you can tap the ground as a way of communicating your transportation. You become self-conscious about being alive; about breathing, about the pace in which you swallow your saliva, about the way your tongue feels against the back of your teeth.

You talk and you realize your words are tumbling down and bouncing off the walls, and dissipating into thin air, but if you push out these vibrations with enough force, somebody else can feel them.Like musical air that you brew in the depths of your being, and then release slowly through wisps of wind that carry it elegantly to the ears of another. Anything. Everything. Irrelevant, but nonetheless, strangely worthy of mentioning. That's what this is about.

And then you realize your entire existence is composed of little miracles.