I can try as hard as I like, to describe that feeling in my chest. That thought running through my head, or that shameless tingle in my stomach. But in the end, my words are nothing more than pointless babble. I do not do anything justice. I cannot describe  the way the rain smells. Or the way the wet grass feels on my cold feet. I can’t describe my favourite smell, and the words I string together, when I talk about beauty can’t make you feel what I felt when I saw it. I start with a flawless idea, only to put it to page, and be completely let down, because it’s as far as you can get, from the image I had in my head.