Blue, green, gem's color, and the bronzish skin's tone that the Sun has loved, and the differential curve that time has established by the sheaf of genes and death.
Because the fact is that the death has sculpted the future; The death rapidly takes away the weakness that will never be transferred to children, the shapes Cosmos do not want, the ordination that doesn't worth.
The black angel of the nothingness is always forging the life, and life becomes stronger.
And the death has made the landscape of your skin as a gift for the life. And this landscape is the most beautiful landscape of all possible. And it is much softer than any mirage your reason might elaborate and your breath could ever design.
To be. Not to be. What I am is not the adjective that determines a code or a very specific act. I'm just a citizen, a primate, a person, someone as weak as you, someone who dreams dreams like you. What I am, is only me. And my people are the people that one day discover a dream, and that another day are not able to find it. I belong to the group of humans, and I see myself as one more monkey, a consciousness that thinks about the life from inside a body full of impulses.
The greatest fullness of beauty lays in the original Earth's landscape, especially in the times when we were not a plague yet; and this beauty lays in the invisible, and even greater, awareness too.