The following came to my mind while viewing her in splendid beauty. And by her I mean the Taj Mahal.
“From a brutal sun, she grabs the softest light and increases her elegance as more is revealed. Detail. Elaborate. Pristine. Smooth. The grandeur. The scale. All reflections point to a love harbored by one man for one woman. A place worthy of a Queen’s stroll, she will only experience it in spirit.
“I stood breathlessly close to nine chipmunks nibbling on seeds, making the sound of a bowl of Rice Krispies. It amazed me I was alone outside in India in a silence that allowed the sounds of chipmunk lip smacks. And I wasn’t melting for a moment! I had enough privacy to emit snot rockets that were essential at the time. My feet grazed dusty stones and stars, and a minaret often stole my shadow. Displacement. The audacity to move. How on Earth am I mobile enough to be here?”
I felt awful that morning, raw nose and constant pressure from inside my face. And I could barely break out of a horrible dream state from the night before. But I had to take in one of the World’s most iconic and recognizable sights. I couldn’t crap this moment away. It was mine for only a bit, and it moved me beyond my physical state to one consumed with the concept of love. After all, this is why the Taj exists.
I was crippled by the idea that people could aim for such perfection for another. It was lovely. Though I would never expect or even want a similar display aimed at myself (that’s just plain vain), but the intent behind it was beautiful. I feel bad for the dude’s other two wives who obviously didn’t receive the same level of admiration.
The Taj Mahal for some can be a destination that proves their reaches, but I wanted to take from this place an idea and a mission. And that I did. We’ll see if this mission pans out. I’ll keep you in the dark on this one, if you don’t mind.