Press Calls

I was walking home from the farmer's market early yesterday morning, laden with bags of produce, pockets stuffed full of ATM card, change, glasses case, keys, hanky, chalk and cellphone. This last item chimed to let me know a text had arrived so I juggled my bags around and groped through my pockets to find the phone.

Delightfully, and disconcertingly, instead of the screen telling me 'you have a message from...' there was this photograph of the Arab press:
At that moment, immersed in the mundane pleasures of my daily life beyond printing, it felt like a siren call from a sweetheart.

Obviously the crowded pocket environment had pushed buttons at random, setting up the phone to send the photo (taken a while ago) as a message, which I wasn't aware of until a friend sent me a text.

But on the other hand, if I can use my imagination to create the reality I want and use reality to manifest my creative vision, why wouldn't the press be calling me?