Buongiorno Principessa!

Life is beautiful. I just saw an Italian film entitled such. We forget that it is, even when the circumstances appear to be anything but fantab, and the film recreates the power of seeing what cannot be controlled and what appears bleak through lenses en rose. It is a reminder of the power of our perception, and the influence that a parent can have upon a child's mind, making of shattered glass reflected shards of childlike happiness. To the boy, the Holocaust and the taking of his family, including himself, to the concentration camps, was a game with the prize being the winning of a real tank. Somehow, the tank at the end did appear, even after his father was shot behind a building. And he won.

Gas chambers, people being cooked alive, hard labour, injuries, screaming, torture, atrocities, and he won.

It seems to me like the beauty in life is ours to behold, or not, as the case may be. It is there in its design, and we can see it because we can recognise it as the same as within ourselves. The world's us, I've said it many times, manyform. And in it we act as we behold, and react accordingly if we believe in what we see and want to see more of it. Momentum is gathered by the movement of our thoughts towards that which we seek to see. Believing is seeing. So, if you want to win a tank, believe it, and you'll see it ;)

Metaphors happen all around us that meet what we have asked for, whether we know it or not. Imperfection is impossible in this respect. I seem to want to talk about so many things here, but not actually in these words. So maybe I'll leave it to words to channel elsethings, anothertime.