Beauty can be found betwixt and between. on days when i take her place, i rest by this tree and recall the Disney adaptation. the story told in stained glass pictures, high contrast and november-spirited wind. icy rain crashing against stone stairs. a person running in the downpour, hot and freezing at the same time. her breath seeped through the branches matting above the hole where her halo used to hang.
as much as soft grounds bring relief at times, a land too miry can steal all your breath. this is when your dreams turn towards the firmness of a stone and the roughness of black bark. the dream of a waterdrop meeting a rock within acoustics of a cavern.
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