breathless living.

It’s a walk up a hill on a chilly morning before the sun's up.

It’s a kind word or a soulful glance.

It’s a person.

It’s what takes your breath away.  It's what leaves you winded, frightened, and vulnerable, but longing for more – all at once.  It’s a reality too much to handle – clearer, sharper, and more bitter than a dream, but so much more passionate.

It’s this thing called living.  And I'm not sure if I'm doing it right.  But, maybe that's the point of it all.