NOTHING IS MAGIC.
There’s this park in school that is always surprisingly clean. Like, neat neat. Every single time and I used to wonder how it manages to maintain that state with the several cars that park there daily. Students rushing in and out, tyres dragging sand, pure chaos sometimes. Yet the place will just be shining like it has personal bodyguards. Only for me to pass there yesterday because I had a Saturday class and guess what? I saw people cleaning it. Actual human beings, sweeping, arranging, packing dirt. Doing the work. It felt odd at first. Like I had just caught the park in a vulnerable moment. And suddenly everything made sense. I now feel silly for lowkey thinking it was magic. The way it always maintained that clean state every time I saw it. As if cleanliness just “happened” as if order just stayed. But seeing the process explained the result, and it made me think, nothing is magic. Even magic is a result of unseen or invisible actions. There is always something happenin...