The perfect landscape is not a sweeping panorama of hills and sky. Its' the view from the window at home. Home home. The place we're reluctant to revisit, but where somehow, something inside goes quiet, peaceful, still. No flapping.
The view from the bedroom window of such a place, preferably early in the morning. With 6am light. Greyblue with a promise of gold. That fat blanket of mist sitting on the vegetation. Parrots screeching. And a mug of hot tea, with lemongrass from the garden.
This is life.