I was on a walk once when it hit me that I never really look straight. When walking, I probably spend most of the time facing down, watching where my feet will land, only glancing up to look at things like buildings or flowers. For the rest of that trip I made it a point to keep my head and gaze level and direct, staring as far down the sidewalk as I could. It felt strangely cinematic: houses lining my field of view, trees along the road, my path tapering off like we learned in sixth grade art when discussing perspective. But most of all it felt still. Without the movement of my feet, with things passing me by firmly in my peripheral, and my gaze steady but unfocused on a particular target, I hardly noticed I was moving. The frame of my vision was a painting and life felt like art.
It wasn't until years later that I learned of the concept of romanticizing life. I didn't read into it much but liked the way it sounded, so came up with a loose definition in my head from how it made me feel and ran with it. Essentially, romanticizing life to me means making it feel like art. I have strong thoughts on what art itself is, but won't discuss that now.
I'm realizing now that this extends past just walks: On the train, at work, during leisure, my attention is almost always on something specific. For me, it's rare and difficult to look away from my next immediate step and instead into the distance, towards a destination. But when I remember to do it I tend to feel happy and hopeful so I'll try to do it more often.