Opening Your Eyes: The Art of Noticing

Spaces That Make Me Feel Alive

There’s something magical about stepping into a space that resonates deeply with you. Places where every detail seems to tell a story. For me, that magic lies in the architecture and objects crafted in the early 1900s. These creations carry a soul, an intentionality that feels increasingly rare in our modern world.

I’ve always been captivated by the details. The oversized elements meant to inspire awe, the hidden stories etched into the small touches, and the sense of craftsmanship that speaks to dedication and pride. Imagine walking into a sunlit room, the solid oak floors warmed by summer light, and catching a faint but unmistakable scent of history. Or the way shadows play across hand-carved furniture, the intricate grids on a massive door, or the metal artistry in railings.

One of my favorite features from that era is the sculptures and facades of buildings. Little narrative moments carved into stone, as if the architects were leaving behind breadcrumbs of wonder for future generations. These elements make the ordinary extraordinary. They feel alive because they were crafted with intention, not just for utility but for beauty and storytelling.

If I were to summarize why these spaces make me feel alive, it’s their ability to transport you into a potential fairy tale. It’s as if every corner, every carved detail, whispers an invitation to imagine what life was like when they were first created.

The Most Beautiful Thing I Saw Today

A few days ago, I stepped off the tram one stop early. Fortunately I found myself walking through streets I usually don’t walk. Soon, I glanced up through a bare winter tree and spotted a hidden gem: an abandoned winter garden entrance. Behind the iron fence, the view felt like something out of a storybook. A large glass-paneled structure with diamond shapes stretching across its surface.

In the middle of this geometric marvel stood a grand door, flanked by the fading elegance of an old building. It was clear the structure had been neglected over the years, with signs of wear and age etched into its features. But that only added to its charm.

All in all, there’s something enchanting about finding beauty in forgotten places. The glass seemed to catch the soft winter light, and for a moment, it felt as though I’d stumbled upon a portal to another time. The contrast between its former grandeur and its current state made it feel all the more meaningful. A reminder that even in neglect, beauty persists.