Enchant me

When you see a picture for something you believe to be the first time, and something starts prickling at the back of your head; I know this from somewhere. You can't remember exactly when you saw it, how old you were and in what context, but you simply know. Because it's too enchanting to be a figgle of your imagination. You did not create these images, how could you? But then again, how could anyone? Then the answer comes to you, smashes you headlong in the face: these pictures are what dreams look like when painted.