I love how the tail of a grunter twirls and how eloquently ink spills on a neatly typed page
how the wispy strands of silver grey twinkles and how innocently a crooked teeth smiles
how the dappling shadow of a few thatched hair dances and how the smell of wilted flowers breeze
how in some murky puddle, lightning flashes on the reflections of naked trees and pebbles, and how smoke rings into the air; spiralling
how a dazzle of sunlight falls on the sparkles of watery sweat clinging to hair and how weeds dance on the beats of chaotic winds
Because beauty lies in the flawed and the broken; flawless and equisite, not!
In the eyes of the beholder; inherent object, not.