There are some moments, when we feel a “kind of comfort inside, almost a revelation, that opens our soul, but at the same time we feel a kind of pain, the sensation of an absolute, irremediable loss. A sweet catastrophe.” And in these moments we are always somehow only in front of it what happens, watching it from the outside. “When you happen to see the place where you would be safe you are always looking at it from the outside. You are never in it. It’s your place, but you are never there.” And if you are, the miracle you felt while looking in it from the outside is gone. And even though you look sad, it has to do with something like happiness, the devastating experience of having suddenly glimpsed it there. This miracle is happiness itself.
It can’t be made permanent, repeated or even reminisced. You just stand there shocked looking how beautiful it is, how sadly and painfully perfect and inexplicable it is. This is why it is perfect and beautiful, because it doesn’t last - it’s fragile, and evanescent. It glints and fades out right away. “There’s nothing to be explained and understood in front of an inexplicably fragile and beautiful thing.“ (Quotes: Alessandro Baricco, Bela Hamvas)