Beauty, i've realized, is not confined to one singular moment
Nor one singular place.
Not one precious moment in time but perhaps a web of them.
It's intrinsic to nature.
Confounded through and possibly limited by the dullness of people.
We need too much.
We desire emptily.
We set definitions leaving little space for the outlier.
But beauty, in its purest form, is the outlier--a great composition of them.
For what we set our eyes forth to blatantly, routinely, and  mundanely is often the most beautiful, masked by our innate desire for novelty.