TRUTH, BEAUTY.

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truth

Sometimes beauty is so unexpected, wild, pure and quiet that I think: surely this is what it is to be alive. I crack a window shade, open one sleepy eye, walk to the edge of a cliff, round a corner and it overtakes me. I stumble, ache almost, when confronted with such magnificence. A sharp inhale as the color, light, the subtle sensual tendrils of sound, scent, texture sweep over me. It is transcendental, filling every hole. A warm smile begins in in my eyes and spreads like honey. I feel it, warm and liquid in the pit of my stomach. Like falling in love, I cannot look away. It is only, I tell myself, a red airplane wing hot against a fading sky, an oceanscape velvet in the dewy morning light, a verdant bowl of mossy softness, a wispy puff of pink vapor nestled atop a jagged peak, an icy tundra crackling against the azure empyrean. It is only particles meeting particles. Or maybe, beauty is truth. Truth, beauty.


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