So what is beauty to me? Does it fashion itself out of the moments of my day, or am I forced to mold it out of the thoughts I have from moment to moment, making it somewhat of a skeleton of a body about which I've no clue. The original shape is unknown to me, distant and out of focus, like a silhouette against the bare sun. But does it come into focus? am I able to retrieve its precise shape, its origins and its purpose, definition? Or does it stay there, undefined and far away, out of reach until some human in the future creates the technologies to take him there? I don't know. And it is the pursuit of truth and further knowledge that will take us closer and closer to it, and day by day the human race becomes closer, ever closer, to beauty.