~
Beauty, at this scale, behaves like a force; it grips, it insists. It does not ask to be admired.
You arrive thinking you have come to see it, but very quickly you understand that you have been called here to be seen.
It does not comfort; it confronts.
It takes away your sense of scale. Mountains rise not to inspire but to correct. To make you understand, how little of you is required for the world to continue.
And in that confrontation, every ordinary thing becomes unbearably precious, and alongside that walks its shadow: the steady, undeniable knowledge that all of it is temporary.
How ruthless that the longing for life and awareness of death rise in the same breath.
Nothing comes to us without demanding a small, irrevocable slice of our life. The cost was the person I was before I stood here.







