!3 years and still mortified of getting older:)

I love writing for the sake of it, once in a while (all the time), as it offers an illusory sense of liberation, a feeling that none can incapacitate me. But for once, let me take you on a literary journey.  Random topic: the effect humanity has had on nature, and the possibility for people to not only stand back and make a change. 

Imagine:

We are currently in a small native american reserve in Canada, picturesque and pure at its utmost. Although exquisite, the land is blatantly without, empty of all human presence. Lonesome would never describe you because its so beautiful, one could never feel truly solitary. 

An emerald drop of nature twirls into the zephyr, leaving behind a presence than went unnoticed. As it reached its zenith, life was once more recaptured by the reality of your surroundings. Who would have cared, if a leaf, in itself a nonentity, had been captured by the zodiac and sent away, unseen? But beauty in its own remains and cannot be disregarded without pay. The wry past of damage done so sadistically persists in a land where magic was always thought irrefutable. All poetic license apart, an indescribable sense of the unimaginable yet inevitable was present. Human error was nothing, because none was a mistake. Carelessness had once more affected and commenced to dilapidate a reserve of protection, a sanctuary for those who's escape was essential. The notorious origin of conquers had been a long time forth and appeared to be an everlasting continuity. And as a tear rolled out on a familiar surface, a gentle hand was there to wipe once more and to remind that in this writhing myriad of impossibility, there were exceptions. 

I enjoy the way the simplest of words can lead to an entire story.