From Hemingway

"They were walking through the heather of the mountain meadow and Robert Jordan felt the brushing of the heather against his legs, felt the weight of his pistol in its holster against his thigh, felt the sun on his head, felt the breeze from the snow of the mountain peaks cool on his back and, in his hand, he felt the girls hand firm and strong, the fingers interlocked in his.
From it, from the palm of her hand, against the palm of his, from their fingers locked together, and from her wrist across his wrist something came from her hand, her fingers and her wrist to his that was as fresh as the first light air that moving toward you over the sea barely wrinkles the glassy surface of a calm, as light as a feather moved across one's lip, or a leaf falling when there is no breeze; so light that it could be felt with the touch of their fingers alone, but that was so strengthened, so intensified, and made so urgent, so aching and so strong by the hard presssure of their fingers and the close pressed palm and wrist, that it was as though a current moved up his arm and filled his whole body with an aching hollowness of wanting.
With the sun shining on her hair, tawney as wheat, and on her golden brown smooth lovely face and on the curve of her throat he bent her head back and held her to him and kissed her."


Ah.......the bold smooth beauty of words....of a moment....of a place...of a beautiful kiss.
In me lays that calm aching hollowness of wanting with the breeze at my back and the sun on my head.... the world spins and I am standing still in this moment of mine forever paused on that plain of dreams as golden as a sunset.
Caught in beauty forever unfolding around me.