This is a hard thing to post about. Finding one thing that moves me time and time again is hard, because a lot of things move me. Early mornings in the fall and spring when the sun is almost blinding due to its brightness, something magical happens. The sky becomes dotted with elaborately colorful hot air balloons. Since I was a little girl I was always completely enamored with them. I have been awestruck at the sight of them as long as I can remember.
It's hard to quantify why something moves me. How do the lines or shapes or colors of something speak to me more than something else? Why? The colors and patterns on the hot air balloons were initially what got me as a child. It turned into something more as I got to be older. Now it's something that I can't even describe, but I still have to stop and stare anytime I see them.
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