This was my most popular Mosstodon pic lately. I can see why, it stopped me dead in my tracks while out with Boxnoggin. Intellectually I know someone doing work on the park infrastructure (or the road nearby) set it there and forgot it, or someone found it on the road and put it there so it didn’t puncture a passing tyre. But the visual glutton in me was arrested by the image, and the storyteller in me immediately began spinning tales, not just about the stranger who had placed it there for reasons I could guess at but would never know but also about a visitor from another world finding such an item, or a catastrophe striking and a survivor finding it in the wreckage, or even of the iron thing vibrating through layers of the real to become a magical key in some far-off dimension.
I amuse myself so handily it’s a wonder I need the internet at all. My brain is always like this. I’ve never in my life experienced a single moment of boredom, because the entire world is a smorgasbord and if for some reason the table is temporarily bare there’s always my inner expanses, and those never dry up. Of course, it could just mean that I’m very easily distracted, but I don’t mind. I like it that way.
The thingummy–I want to call it an eyelet, but that’s probably inaccurate–was gone by the time the dog and I wandered back through, which isn’t surprising. It was enough to see it once; the ideas remain. If I end up writing about an iron key in a few years we’ll all know why.
Can’t wait. Have a good weekend, my beloveds. (And don’t forget Friday Night Writes tonight!)