I was going to tell you about heartache and the loss of god, but you've probably heard that song. I thought instead to tell you of beauty, but what do I know of that? I know of beauty as one who seeks what he is not.
I (mis)quote Shakespeare to myself all the time, most often the line, "I think that I shall never see a poem as lovely as a tree." because I believe that I will not. I will never read a paragraph describing a woman that is as beautiful as the woman herself, nor a paragraph describing the beauty of a man. This is not meant to be an argument against the completeness of language, but rather an appreciation of the complexity of beauty as seen through the eye of this beholder.
Today I met an older gentleman with a grey-white beard riding an adult sized bike, but with the scoop handlebars that one would expect to see on a child's bike, the kind with a banana seat. He was wearing a very wide-brimmed cowboy hat instead of a helmet and had on thick black ski gloves that extended as gauntlets almost to his elbows. Of course, to match this he was wearing flip-flops, denim cut-offs and a dirty white v-neck t-shirt. He seemed very happy as he said, "Hello" while passing me by. What an absolutely beautiful site - a bike rider by Dada.
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