I sit at the top of the world.
Well, close enough.
It seems like the top of the world, that mountain peak at sunset. Try as I might, I cannot think of any time in my life that I've been closer to the sky than now.
The honey gold light glints off of the gently waving grass that surrounds the lone rock on which I sit. Windmills, as tall as the sky itself, tower above me. The guide tells us that the windmills are going faster than we could ever imagine, despite their slow appearance. It's all relativity, he concludes.
Below me, far, far below, I see the shining lights of the city. The contrast between the two worlds shocks me. How can two such different places, city and country, nature and technology, exist so close to each other?
And how could each be so beautiful that they take my breath away?
I learned a lesson about beauty that day. Beauty is not concrete and finite. There are not specific guidelines that must be followed. Anything can be beautiful, whether it be the sparkling lights of a busy city or the glowing solitude of a mountain peak at sunset.