Creativity lurks in unexpected places. Instead of trimming these bushes into the usual rectangle or oval, someone decided they’d look better as a caterpillar and a rabbit.
Encountering these animals on a quiet side street made me wonder why we don’t do this kind of thing all the time.
The wonderful thing about reading and writing is that both are chances to use our imagination.
In All the Light We Cannot See, Marie-Laure and her Uncle Etienne turn a couch into a flying machine to escape France during World War II:
“They visit Scotland, New York City, Santiago. More than once, they put on winter coats and visit the moon… ‘Here, try some nice fresh moon flesh,’ he says, and into her mouth goes something that tastes a lot like cheese.”
My brother and I used to do that kind of thing all the time. We’d hop from the couch to the coffee table to a rocking chair because the living room rug would suddenly turn into an ocean or a lava pit.
Then we grew up and the rug was just a rug. We forgot that we could turn it into something much more fun and interesting.
In All the Light We Cannot See, when Werner and Jutta hear radio broadcasts like this, the world opens up for them:
“The brain is locked in total darkness, of course, children, says the voice. It floats in a clear liquid inside the skull, never in the light. And yet the world it constructs in the mind is full of light. It brims with color and movement. So how, children, does the brain, which lives without a spark of light, build for us a world full of light?…Open your eyes, concludes the man, and see what you can with them before they close forever.”
After hearing those words, their world is transformed:
“…and then a piano comes on, playing a lonely song that sounds to Werner like a golden boat traveling a dark river, a progression of harmonies that transfigures Zollverein: the houses turned to mist, the mines filled in, the smokestacks fallen, an ancient sea spilling through the streets, and the air streaming with possibility.”
Unless we’re constantly reading or writing, we’re probably not using our imagination enough in daily life. After reading All the Light We Cannot See, I’ll try to imagine more often. Maybe the next traffic jam will turn into a parade full of characters and clowns.
I’m enough of a dreamer to believe if we change our perception of the world, the world will change. I know that’s a silly thought but silly thoughts might be the best kind.
“Imagination is the only weapon in the war against reality.” – Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland
What do you think the world would be like if we used our imagination more often?
It’s about time for some beach or patio reading in the sun. I’m looking forward to diving into these books almost as much as the ocean: The Shell Collector (because 
Sheila Hurst 