I believe it was Picasso who once said that an artist is someone who still sees this world through the eyes of a child.

My goodness, so much truth in so few words. When we are young, the world is a magical place; where adventure is fashioned in fallen trees over streams.

And, hope built with each fearless leap.

Though, somehow as we grow older – our conditions change. We forfeit optimism in exchange for ease.

How foolish to think that with comfort, comes peace.

“Every child is an artist,” he said. “The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up.”

As for me? These days, even the shortest of walks evoke my child-like heart of seeing.

For, within each withered branch and ambered leaf, there exists…a little indescribable ‘something special’, which fans the embers of Belief.

And, with glittering eyes and patience, my darlings….perhaps it just might be seen.