There is a Romanian photographer who has published a book called: In the Most Beautiful life and as the plane bumped down in the field site today just like it had hundreds of times before; as the children from the village run up to see who might be disembarking; as staff stood on the airstrip waving as if their lives depended on how effusively they wave; I find myself thinking of the title of this book. How many times a day, or a week, or a month or sometimes even in your whole life do you find yourself grinning thinking, ‘I can’t believe I get to live this life!’
There is a Romanian photographer who has published a book called: In the Most Beautiful life and as the plane bumped down in the field site today just like it had hundreds of times before; as the children from the village run up to see who might be disembarking; as staff stood on the airstrip waving as if their lives depended on how effusively they wave; I find myself thinking of the title of this book. How many times a day, or a week, or a month or sometimes even in your whole life do you find yourself grinning thinking, ‘I can’t believe I get to live this life!’
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