Being lost is not a condition, but an ephemeral state, temporary. The sun had set hours before, and we wandered through town on a string of halogen streetlights, each one giving us a small hoop of comfort, of familiarity. Like a strobe laid out along a spatial dimension, each spot allowed us to assess where we were, piece by piece, and assemble the puzzle to see the implied image of our town and find our way home. With a ring this bright, you’re never without that little taste of home, never without a means to light your way.
He’s struck gold exactly once as a prospector, and it wasn’t enough to sell. But he took the bouillon to the assayer and melted it down to form his lucky ring. That ring has been with him ever since, on every speculation, every pan, every survey. It’s gone with him deep into the river beds and high into the mountain headwaters, and every time it’s brought him luck. Not gold, no, but the contentedness, the happiness, and the serenity of his labor. He’s never worn the ring without wearing a smile with it, and the gold that sparkles in his eyes.
We wake up in the middle of the night, just after the moon has set, and put on thick down coats against the thin cold of the mountain air. We’re camped at the bottom of a granite cirque just beside the lake, and the entire bowl glows a soft silver. It’s not the light of our headlamps, or the moon, but in the pitch black of the night above we see it bold, striated, structured: the Milky Way buttressing the heavens from one end of the dome to the other.
Black Zirconium Metal
Shown 7mm wide
1.3mm, .01ct, SI1, G-H Color, Natural or Lab-Grown Diamonds
Nature abhors a straight line. Nature’s paths wind, loop back around, drift and stray. We claim the fastest way between two points is a line, but who are we to claim that the fastest way is the best way? Where do we get by traveling the straight path, merely to our destination? But where do we get by meandering? Only the forest knows, but it’ll happily lead us there.