CREATIVE FREEDOM || 09 ⭑ 23 ⭑ 2025

The limit is the edge of our ever-expanding universe.

Stories are written all around us; from the life-cycles of flora and fauna to the weathering of stone. They’re small, short, disconnected. And yet they exist alongside each other. Some may cross paths. Some may not. When one ends, another begins in its place: a constant cycle of creation. They existed before us and will persist after our extinction—the passage of time etched in all, the evidence of something once real.

Observation is integral to human creativity; to be able to look, learn, and understand what’s before us; to be able to utilize or transform what we see to solve a problem or do something new entirely.

The Challenge

I take a two-mile walk every weekday morning, and recently, I’ve started to snap photos of random things I happen to notice (and also just cool shit).

So, I thought I’d share them and give Substack full creative freedom.

The only rules?

• Tag me (obviously)

• No AI content

No limits. No constraints. No deadlines.

Go nuts.

Need a compass?

• Further expand a prompt

• Utilize them in a work

• Simply practice writing vibrant description

• Spin a narrative between 2+

• Analyze and create themes or symbols

• Draw them! As is or combine elements!

The Photos

A lone butterfly wing.

Close-up of an animal track in loose sediment.

The imprint of leaves in concrete.

Webbing in the branches of a tree.

One of the bridges. A pier with no front supports.

A little guy!

Another little guy!

A cottonwood tree preparing for the change.

Pretty flower on a vine.

Successful vine graft (?) effort.

Not even close to the original color. . . Painted-over graffiti. Hard to see, but there're tags directly over the grey in the farther back. Determination. Or perhaps spite.

The old train bridges crossing the Brazos. I would like to walk across them one day.

A piece of history.

Ducks! There are a lot of them in the area.

Muscovy Ducks! There's a third around somewhere. . . Two males and a female. I've never seen any more. Just those same ones.

It's hard to make out, but here are handprints within the concrete. The thumbs face outwards on both.

The shell of a turtle in the final stages of decomposition, found on the bank not even a foot from the water. Almost entirely cleaned out save for bones in the hind legs, cartilage (I think), and a glob of fats near the bones. Crawling with gnats and little black larvae.