On Beauty

Since we live in the age of consultants, branded selves, and ten-minute talks, since we solve all of life's matters with an app, pass boredom with an app, and share our thoughts on love through an app, this is what I miss. I miss tiled wallpapers, livejournals from 1997, the crack of a smile on his face at two in the morning. I miss the Internet as a messy, emotional, amorphous wad of mysteries. I miss flawed, intensely personal moments not perfected by a logo. I miss run on sentences that doesn't contain a mission, vision, or action steps.

This might go against everything I've learned to hone in the past years in a push to over-plan and over-organize. What I miss is the deep and honest moments that bare a beauty uncontrived.

In New York at two in the morning. I encounter for the first time, chaos that felt real, conversations with real humans, warped space and time. Suddenly I understand why Angelina adopts eight kids. What else do you do when you have the world if not to own the world?

I believe in beauty from craft, patience, time, idiosyncrasies, and most of all, stories that might expose the fragility in the best of us.