A light breeze whispered through the branches. A quiet stream trickled by, licking the rotund edges of a few scattered pebbles. It was a beautiful day. The silence of the early morning with the staccato of chirping here and there seemed to awaken some kind of peace within me, long lost in the hustle bustle of life. Sunlight glistened on the still lake water surface where sparse bubbles rose intermittently, the meager signs of the lively underwater world hidden from view. It was like I'd stepped into an artist's painting; Monet's, Picasso's, or DaVinci's greatest masterpiece. The tapestry was so perfect, almost as if I could brush my fingers through the floating clouds in the azure sky. The grass beneath my toes tickled to my mild amusement, the fresh scent enveloping in a gust of wind that whirled around me.
Who knew such subliminal beauty could exist in the smoke and smog of crowded Chicago?
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