A lot of my posts talk about understanding the mundane. About everyday incidents and fluttering thoughts joined together at the hip. About repeatability at its best, wrapping itself around our frailties and our weekends. About the indefinite cycle of hop-scotch. Things taken for granted. The Earth's rotation and Google maps.
A book I read recently had one of the most beautiful quotes I have ever come across. It stated, "The most amazing thing that a man will ever get to see in his life is the body of a woman". Being the closet romantic that I am, it struck a chord. Not an orchestra of hope or the flashback of reminiscences, but a slight breathlessness of emotion, a skipped beat. A recognition of those faded moments when fate and feeling collide in a flash of color, when time slows down and closeness intensifies.
I have always believed that beauty is instinctive, that the awe is animalistic. That its not in the comfortability or the trust or the relationship itself, but in something much more clichéd and commonplace. Its in the flick of her wrist as she pulls at that contemplative strand of hair. Its in the place between the head and shoulder where she lies to listen to your voice. Its in the blink of her look, her want. In the smile of last night and the last hug before the rain. The hand around the waist in that timeless dance. The cheek-to-cheek. The static of first contact. In the movie scenes and the lyrics. In that final wandering thought, and the next one. Its in the faded picture thats crumpled from being in the wallet so long. Its in the jacket that smells of her. Its in those infinite little things that melt together into one breath of bliss, one gaze at eternity, one shot at love.
Life throws quite a fair share of conspicuous issues our way. And its this bag of small wonderfuls that makes it all worthwhile. The whispers and the silences, the scents and the touches, the glances and the flickers. The sweet nothings that we seldom understand.
A book I read recently had one of the most beautiful quotes I have ever come across. It stated, "The most amazing thing that a man will ever get to see in his life is the body of a woman". Being the closet romantic that I am, it struck a chord. Not an orchestra of hope or the flashback of reminiscences, but a slight breathlessness of emotion, a skipped beat. A recognition of those faded moments when fate and feeling collide in a flash of color, when time slows down and closeness intensifies.
I have always believed that beauty is instinctive, that the awe is animalistic. That its not in the comfortability or the trust or the relationship itself, but in something much more clichéd and commonplace. Its in the flick of her wrist as she pulls at that contemplative strand of hair. Its in the place between the head and shoulder where she lies to listen to your voice. Its in the blink of her look, her want. In the smile of last night and the last hug before the rain. The hand around the waist in that timeless dance. The cheek-to-cheek. The static of first contact. In the movie scenes and the lyrics. In that final wandering thought, and the next one. Its in the faded picture thats crumpled from being in the wallet so long. Its in the jacket that smells of her. Its in those infinite little things that melt together into one breath of bliss, one gaze at eternity, one shot at love.
Life throws quite a fair share of conspicuous issues our way. And its this bag of small wonderfuls that makes it all worthwhile. The whispers and the silences, the scents and the touches, the glances and the flickers. The sweet nothings that we seldom understand.
