etcetera etcetera

if something interesting happens every day, it is generally a tiny, mundane, insignificant event, which can not even be called event. How miraculous they are! It is not the good things or happy coincidences, it is a bee visiting the newly blooming flower in pot, the shining sidewalks after a quick summer rain, and today, among many others, it is the baby seagulls beginning to practice timidly their unexperienced wings.
And how flat they become when they are told. However, most of the time it seems they are the things which count most; the etceteras we look down on, extraordinarily mundane, unadorned presences we disdain to share.