Like bubbles in the air, we are. Floating in the independent spheres of our own. Sometimes touching the surface of another, attaching to it. Sometimes floating alone till the eventual burst. But never being absorbed by another bubble, no matter how close we get. Independently our own, in each bubble there is everything we need, and each a reflection of its environment. And no matter how big or small we are, we are each perfect in our own way. And even though we may think that we see through another bubble, see the truth of it, it is only an illusion for what is seen is altered by the surface of our own being. Only from afar could we see who we are in the conglomerate of bubbles, and latest then appreciate the beauty of it all. The beauty of life dancing in the air.