Sometimes

Sometimes, when I look with clear eyes, everything seems to fall into place in front of me and all I have to do is press a button to take the photograph, and steal the image from reality and bring it to my home, where I print it on paper in a way the ink is spread across the paper in a balanced and pleasing way, and then, when I look at the image on the paper, what I see is not what I saw, but instead a new little universe that has so many things in it, big and small, little things that if you were a painter you would never have thought to put them in your painting, the little things that turn a scene into reality, a reality that can bear no name, because it is what it is, a reality, made of ink on paper.