Grey rumblings course across the skies like thundering concrete marbles looking to lie heavily wherever they come to rest. This is only mid journey and the wind allows them no let up as the mountains loom darkly below.
Their competitively-driven focus is diverted as a spark of fuchsia light catches the corner of their eyes and they start to slow and take their time, the sudden beauty no longer making their hurry so hurrisome. The fuchsia spark becomes a streak and then in seconds the colour is everywhere, mesmerising the marbles as the streaks open and move with the breeze - like lips parting for that first unsmudged kiss. The sun sets and the lipstick blurs, pink smatterings in previously unseen crevices.
The grey rumblings continue their journey. A little slower and more meandering this time - their brief interlude having revealed yearnings for contact of a less focused and more serendipitous nature. After all, isn't true, unadulterated happiness gained from random stumblings that make one remember distant dreams?