Fountains.

Shifting colors lighting every droplet of water cast into the air by the jets pointing directly upward at the darkened night sky. Various patterns of water streams brought out by the sporadic, yet rhythmical releases from within the jets, paired with the endlessly meandering spectrum of color, illuminating the dancing streams as they flow through the air, then come crashing down into the pool of the fountain with a multitude of splashes. She leans over the concrete wall set around the fountain, fencing in the water, and decorated with roughly cut stones set upon one another. The top of the wall made of smoothly shapen concrete. Her elbows and forearms propping up her upper body as she leans upon the wall, her hair flowing gently down her back while she stares intently at the concert being performed by the color-lit cascading water, her hands clasped softly together in front of her.

It's all so disgustingly beautiful.

I guess I haven't gotten any better. Maybe it's dulled a bit but it's still there. Ceaseless. Neverending. Eternal. You choose the word. It's all the same anyways. I don't want it to be like this. I never did, but when I write about it, I can make myself confront it, and think clearly about it, and know what my exact feelings are on it.

Ugh. I'm done. I'm not feeling it right now.