Maps are funny things. The cartographer surveys the land, takes in all of the surroundings, the scenery, the elevations and landmarks and inscribes them onto a flat paper, in the hopes that someone, venturing into this unfamiliar territory, can reconstruct this image and so the foreign territory is no longer unknown.
Sometimes these images are so bright so vivid, you see it and yourself but you can’t believe it until you take someone back there with you. And if what you’ve found was truly magic in a bottle, it will still be there for you both to see, and you might be tripping but then it is still there and you can both confirm to each other that what you saw was magic.
How do you share magic in a bottle? You open the cork and its gone and then all that’s left is you sitting there wondering if the only thing you had all along was an empty bottle.
Trying to hold onto magic is like trying to catch a cloud in your hand. Reach out and grab it and it always slips away, you tighten your fist and it slips right through your fingers. But leave your hand open and waiting, and sometimes a small bird comes to rest in the palm of your hands. It’s not yours to catch, it will always fly away, but it might stay with you for a while longer.