A line in the piece says imagine if we didn't get bored:
"We’d be perpetually excited by everything—raindrops falling, the cornflakes at breakfast time."
"Boredom is the gateway to mind-wandering" but there is a fugue state beyond it where the mind is unable to explore, to stray from the path.
I look at the streams of photographers who take pictures of seemingly innocuous things but something has prompted them to do so. A shape, a colour, a pattern, the juxtaposition of incongruous objects.
They look upon the mundane with a sense of wonder. They find beauty among the relentless grey of urban sprawl. They are amazed by the minutiae of everything around them.
But this is a state of mind, one I used to occupy but am presently unable to reinhabit.
I want to be excited by the shapes and colours of cornflakes at breakfast time. I want to be transfixed by the sounds and patterns of falling rain.
I want to, once again, find beauty among the madness.