It is not places that bring us joy or excitement that we sometimes desperately wished for, or any other feeling whose absence makes us feel that our life is not complete.
It is us. Solely us.
Things turn out in the ways relatedly with how we approach to them.
This struck me all of a sudden when I was having dinner with one of my best friends, she was showing me her small plant and talking to it at the same time. She was pretty selective and hesitant about which name she was going to choose for.
She was happy.
Until that moment I could define happiness with aims and wishes of mine; when I had them, I could call myself happy or be happy.
But now I see that there is hardly a relation between these.
Or maybe, just maybe, it was some glasses of wine that help us discover the reality of things – especially about ourselves. An old bridge to happiness.