Night, the beloved. Night, when words fade and things come alive. When the destructive analysis of day is done, and all that is truly important becomes whole and sound again. When man reassembles his fragmentary self and grows with the calm of a tree. ~Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
When we look up, it widens our horizons. We see what a little speck we are in the
universe, so insignificant, and we all take ourselves so seriously, but in the
sky, there are no boundaries. No differences of caste or religion or race.
Waiting again one day for Trin to finish band practice after school, I noticed how beautifully the clouds were reflected in the car parked next to mine. And on another day, I noticed how beautiful the trees were as reflected from the icy roof of my husband’s car