There are, I must admit, because I am a crumpy little girl, few but very ordinary things in this world that can make me smile. And when I finally do, people just stare like I've gone momentarily retarted for no apparent reason; and maybe I have. But... It's times like these, when suddenly Spring decides to kick King Winter out of the old Chesterfield chair he so stubbornly has taped himself to with 4 yards of ducttape, watching the winter olympics, that one can find oneself in a position that ove might have... forgotten, from last year perhaps, or from an entire lifetime. Moments of sudden realization of the constant beauty and love that really excists all around. You all, the hopeless souls lost in battle between logics and realisme, who lie left behind on the battlefield with a pen or a brush or even a keyboard in hand, waiting for the sun to shine over the fields once again, are the once to depicture these incredible moments where earth and sky stand as one, or when a sudden smile appears on a face, a fantasy enters a fresh mind or an angle appears, from which you've never seen things before. It is you, who capture these moments, and where some might only pass the fields, maybe even fought on them but lost, can look and think "what terrible loss, they're all waisting their lives on doodles and immature poetry", others who are curious enough and full of awe, may look out from behind the tree branches and stare with respectful, maybe even somewhat jealous eyes, at what you create; for all of us, not talented enough to do even your easiest pieces after.

"Some just walk in the light, you know..." I once heard from a film, and it made me realize very much from that point. What meaning you find it yourself, that's up to you, but personally I think it's a celebration to those who really do walk in the light, by those who are strong enough to face that not all of do, and there is no reason for jealousy. Because, you see, even though some of us are only allowed to walk to the edge of the woods, we are still watchers of those lying in the battlefield, and without us, who would be watching over them, then?