Creativity is flitting around the meaning in the same way a child tip-toe-hops across a scattered bridge of tiny island stones.

It’s the eloquent stroke of inspiration illuminating the starry mind of an audience as it shoots in front of their moonlit eyes.

It’s the dissolving death of a cloud into the wispy air, the suction of a boot escaping mud, a red ribbon waving hello to the sun as it floats off the tail end of a dancer’s dress, a raindrop slithering down and peeking into a window as a new couple embrace for the first time on the other side; releasing their inhibitions, beauty, and core to every lost balloon that happens to tumble past.

It is every time a grown-up looks outside and remembers that even though we can’t see it anymore our world will always be spinning.