Like the impressionists, I’m drawn to beauty in the ordinary. Scenes that aren’t loud or elaborate, but striking to those who pay attention: the shimmer of water, the flicker of leaves in the wind. Moments defined not by action, but by stillness. Most recently, I found one in the last place I expected: while playing Minecraft. I’d been traversing biomes, dodging mobs, and mining for iron when I stumbled upon a small pixelated painting.

The artwork, titled Tides by Kristoffer Zetterstrand, was tucked quietly into the background. It contained no action, no explanation, only presence. A single figure sat by the sea, maybe resting, maybe waiting. Behind them stretched a soft horizon in washed-out blues and browns. The scene was unassuming. Spare in composition and easy to overlook. What struck me wasn’t the image, but the feeling: a quiet sadness. A soft, undramatic loneliness. It didn’t perform. It simply existed. And that gave it weight.

It’s strange to find a moment like that in a world built for survival and progress. But maybe that’s the point. When you’re always chasing the next task, it’s easy to rush past everything else. Sometimes, meaning doesn’t announce itself. It waits quietly, half-hidden, asking only to be noticed.