Perhaps something’s—anything’s or even maybe, anyone’s—purpose isn’t a sole, static purpose. A thing’s existence being never singular and perhaps ever-changing, akin to the seasons.
Purpose thus transient by nature.
Pictured here: an old shack—forgotten or neglected—its designer’s aspirations but a memory. Now, this shed has become a place for wild grapes to grow and perhaps serve as a home for a raccoon or two.
Likely, a trellis for grapes and a ringtail’s abode weren’t the shed’s original reason for being built.
But consider this place’s raison d’être may have grown into something else far more than its conceived intent—a simpler yet grander testament to a new purpose.
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