I've still got this photograph blue-tacked to the side of my filing cabinet.
It was taken several years ago, on a night out with my uni buddies. We were on our way down town when we spotted the tiniest, friendliest-looking robin sitting on a wall.
At first, we genuinely thought it wasn't real. It just sat there, completely unbothered by us, as though a group of people heading out for the evening was nothing particularly unusual. Somehow, it didn't seem frightened at all. If anything, it almost seemed pleased to see us.
Eventually, it must have moved just enough to convince us it was alive. And, amazingly, it stayed put long enough for me to get a photograph.
It's one of those little moments that sticks with you. Whenever I catch up with that group of friends, the robin still comes up in conversation. We wonder whether the little chap is still there, going about his business and charming unsuspecting passers-by.
Look a little closer.
There's something else in the photograph, though, that turned out to be rather significant.
Just behind the robin, you can see part of a road sign saying DISTRICT. The rest of the wording is out of shot, so I'm guessing it was probably Strobane Industrial District. There are also those road-bend chevrons fixed to the wall.
At the time, it was just a photograph from a night out. A cute robin, a funny little encounter and a picture worth keeping.
But that image went on to become part of the inspiration for DISTRICT. PROVISIONS. The name, the chevrons and the feeling of that photograph all found their way into the project.
Not because I'd planned it that way. Not because I'd sat down to invent a brand identity. It was simply something I'd experienced, photographed and remembered.
And somewhere along the way, it became part of the story.
Funny how these things happen.
We spend an awful lot of time trying to come up with ideas, looking for inspiration and working out what something should be.
Sometimes, though, the best bits are already sitting there in front of you. You just don't realise their significance until later.
So here's to the little robin, wherever he might be now. And to a photograph that's been blu-tacked to my filing cabinet for years, quietly reminding me where a little bit of this all began.