What is your favorite type of weather?
It’s dark and chilly. I feel the crisp air line my skin as I clutch my silk scarf. I glance at the lamppost in the distance, its warmth lighting up icy fireflies as I rub my pale hands together.
I briefly stare up at the stars, and wonder how far they stretch. Perhaps, they are infinite?
I glance back at the infinity in front of me, as a minuscule slice of it lands on the tip of my nose. As I let out a wispy puff of breath, I reach out in front of me, eager to grasp infinity for myself.
Suddenly, one lands on my fingertip. Like the stars, it’s the same as all the others from afar. However, as my glosses eyes scan further, they stumble upon its unique beauty.
The wonder that lay on my fingertip is its own infinity, one that is impossible to replicate. One that could never be replicated, and never will, by anything else. Not even by itself just a moment ago, while it still danced in the thin air.
And that’s what makes it beautiful.