I've heard and read about people romanticizing train wrecks and car crashes. I aways wondered where beauty could be found in destruction. Was it in the momentary fear that coursed through every vein? Was it in the feeling of hearts dropping, stopping and restarting? Or perhaps the beauty was all in the reality of somebody ordinary witnessing something so tragic that it was almost surreal... The essence of your being kissed my soul and taught me every definition of beauty. What we had was beautiful: an ephemeral feeling of travelling through life, death, heaven and hell in a split second. The very definition of a beautiful disaster.