Humans,
we are not infinite.

We tend to forget that
we die.

Our existence is a cycle.

We are not infinite.

Yet, the things we
do.
The lives we
live.

I like to think that those things are.

Just like, the ocean
and the sky
and nature.

Like the universe.

I like to believe that,
by watching the sunrise,
or the sunset,
by camping,
or planting a tree,
I like to believe that
THAT'S how we become
infinite.

Becoming one with our surroundings.

Loving.

Appreciating and taking care.

Learning, creating.

That's the way we become immortal.

We leave a mark, a trace,
a piece of our souls.

And so we keep on living...

Her eyes could light up a room with a simple look.
Her heart, oh it shined like a thousand suns.
The energy that came out from her, the purest feeling I've ever experienced.
Even at distance I could feel the warmth of her soul whenever she spoke those beautiful words.

Her ability to make me smile, even at the darkest hours,
her softness when it came at those sensitive subjects,
her cheerful attitude,
her knowledge and wisdom,
her positive views, even when she's falling apart.

A wonderful soul,
an unique living being,
her sole presence in this world makes it a better place to be in.

And I wouldn't mind being stuck with her.
And I wouldn't mind listening to her everyday.
Because she is a work of art, classic, delicate, full of surprises.
Because she is impossible to understand, but at the same time, an open book.

Because she is the one.