I realized yesterday, I am obsessed with beauty. Finding it where it is hidden, where others do not see it, creating it where it is not, remembering it where it has been forgotten, and imagining it where no one has yet dared. Things don't have to be pretty, or perfect for me to love them, but I must find some beauty in them, because I do love them. I have to find some trace of what I know was intended, some mark of divine intention. And I always have, every time I've searched. Which only wets my appetite to find more beauty, and to show more beauty, and somehow, to become something beautiful out of the mess that's me.