Language of legs

My legs are where the seeker in me lives. Questing, traveling, and traversing. The wandering and roaming and search for the intimate unknown in far off places.

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The beauty of a hundred things

I’ve been thinking recently about what it is that beauty even means to me, the vastness of this single word: beauty.

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The beauty of not fitting in

There is something about not fitting in that presents us to ourselves in full, and maybe, just maybe, there is beauty in what we see.

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For the one who…

for the one who wakes up and thinks, nothing is the way i thought it was going to be and i don’t even know how it happened…

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Your way is the only way

We become committed to this concept that the only way to live our life is our way; and that our way is perfect even if other people can’t see it.

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Languid rays give light to form

It’s amazing to me that this happens every day; moving from darkness to light marks our dawn, and our return to dusk.

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