I am currently sitting in a rural New Hampshire public library, on a couch in front of a gigantic brick fireplace that looks like it hasn't been actively burned in over a hundred years. The elementary school that I attended is a couple miles down the road, and this building looks like it was built around the same time-period, possibly even by the same architect. A trip to the building's bathroom was particularly strange, as it seemed almost identical to those on less used (and thus less modernized) floors of the school. I saw a mini-van driving around town yesterday with a bumper-sticker that said "I got checked out at..." with the name of the library and a silhouette of the building. I have to find one of those stickers. What is mundane for some (as this all would have been to me a few mere years ago) takes on hints of the surreal when coupled with personal association, and I've definitely been experiencing quite a bit of this over the last few weeks.
Freshly fallen snow, after living in the desert for a piece of time, for instance, has a sort of perplexion to me that, growing up in New England, I never would have thought that it could possess.
Drastic changes in scenery over the past few years are beginning to lend me very different eyes as an artist.