I’m sorry to say that I am not sure what I’m writing. I suppose it’s a story that’s close enough to be read by you and felt by you, just you. The beauty that cannot be seen, that cannot be heard, that cannot be smelt; it can be felt. When you feel this beauty then you’ll see it, you’ll hear it, you’ll smell it, you’ll taste it and finally, you’ll live it.
I was waiting for the moon to peek through the horizon as the wind persuaded the clouds above to drift pass. The sight made me feel like I was also hooked onto the swaying clouds. Suddenly, it started drizzling but my eyes eagerly waited for the first glimpse of the moon; I knew, despite the clouds, the moon would show up for me.