Rhythm and the Picture

Have you ever tried staring up the sky with the sunroof open while sitting on the passenger side of a moving car? (or in my case, I was just staring upside-down through a bus window with Brian's arm as a comfy headrest -- thanks, babe! You're the best. :-D )

I can never get tired of the green of trees against the blue of skies. It's just such a comforting blend of colors -- as if nothing can go wrong, and all that you think is wrong can be pushed off 'til later. Because just for this moment, you are happy, you are smiling, and you can breathe.

I can never bore myself with the golden light line the edges of leaves. Watching them glisten is a lot like watching the Christmas lights, except in the summer.

And to listen to someone you care deeply about sitting next to you breathe, holding you. His (well, or hers, in your case, whoever you are) touch, his caress, his heartbeat ... all of it seem to compliment the rhythm of, not only the molecules and chemistry outside that makes the pictures you see move and be animated, but also the cells that bounce around in your body to make YOU who you are.

It doesn't matter that neither people utters a word. Silence is harmony to the melody. Silence is the song of comfort and peace.

Everything -- the grass, the wind, the birds, you ... and me -- are all alive.

Alive.

Maybe all we're living for are just moments like this, when everything, at least for a matter a few minutes, are (though not perfect, per se) at ease with each other, creating pictures that you would want to commit to memory, soft silky threads of music that goes from the outside to your ears to everything of you inside that make you want to go on and live for another day.