Ephemeral instincts prompt us to make lovely what we may. But to the eye, we find incredulous reasons why we shouldn’t believe beauty when it presents itself. But pardon me, Sir—what is your greatest worry?
I wish to remain simply, a glimpse in tall-tale fantasy. After all, when even we sleep in vain.
Tell them stories, you may. But I’m afraid the pictures you took, they won’t believe this!