In a world full of injustice and pain how do we learn to see beauty to cling to it, to call it hope? Are we born believing that the wide expanse of sky cracked with sunlight just after a thunderstorm is an affirmation, a reward for putting one foot in front of the other? Or is beauty something we’ve invented, a story we tell ourselves to make sense of our quiet desperate need to keep breathing.
October, 2009