Beauty is a whisper that cannot be caught; it is like trying to touch time with your bare hands. It is the universal muse who reveals herself in all Her splendor to anyone whose eyes stray from desolation and darkness. Beauty is made up of all our dreams, all our expectations, all our uniqueness, and all our imaginings of a better world.
Perhaps Beauty isn’t something I can write about directly. Maybe it’s more like saying something with the look in your eyes, rather than with the words from your mouth. Maybe Beauty is something that only your heart sees, and therefore only your heart can truly talk about