A thing broke a long time ago.
It was a mountain. It couldn’t be fixed. Not even close.
So it became something else.
A bowl.
Scientists would say a depression in the center of the volcano.
Very un-mountain-like.
Anyway, rain filled it.
Trees surrounded it.
Kids dreamed on it.
Artists stayed on it.
Creativity grew from it,
and the bowl became more than a bowl.
It became a place where kids and artists and people could
feel like everything is possible and nothing needs to stay broken.