I want very badly to be in a place of beauty, not manufactured beauty like architectural masterpieces, real, genuine, natural beauty. The kind that cannot be created by any mind, that cannot be configured through pure imagination.
I want the beauty which has been created by the winds, the rains, the rough seas. The shifting of plates, the collision of mountains.
I want trees a mile high casting green shadows over crystal lakes of clear, magnificent water. Sun pouring through gaps in those trees, highlighting the pristine image of perfectly engineered flowers.
To see life moving in these waters, hiding in these trees, breathing in this sweet air, fragranced with life.