When Spoon left town, she had a minor bout of apprehension, but that quickly faded to excitement after she hit the road. Once out of town, she felt fresh and alive and knew she was doing the right thing.
Her main mode of transportation was bus, hopscotching from one town to another, stopping long enough to determine if there was anything different, new, or whether the people preferred just getting by, as they did in her town. For the first several weeks, she discovered nothing dramatically imaginative. She was mildly surprised and a little disappointed.
She appreciated the philosophy of just getting by, but considered it as lazy contentment. After all, she thought, those who had put in a day’s work earning enough for their necessities deserved to do what they wanted with their downtime. But the lack of creative thought bothered her. Their homes were constructed to be just enough, the furniture inside was just enough, their clothes were simple, and just enough. Rarely was there artwork on the walls, because, she thought, that would have been more than enough.
She knew a few of her neighbors had painted bright colors on interior walls of their homes. One of her friend’s parents drew pictures and had a collection which she thought was impressive, but they were not on display anywhere, just stowed in a box. She suspected most others had hidden talents that simply were not manifested, either by choice or lack of motivation. Regardless, she was determined to find out if there existed a society where creativity flourished.
Spoon had a funny feeling that everyone had creative potential. She didn’t want to return home until she was sure.