Little things.

We spend part of our lives exploring things, trying to engage with the world, that lives within these small worlds of small things.
We travel, we observe, we think. We gain inspiration from the movies we see and the books we read. We picture ourselves in situations that instill us to our cores, situations that capture our minds, for their beauty and charisma are too picturesque for our unsure minds.
Some get captivated by their dreams. Some find the cuddling up in warm blankets, the kissing in the rain, the curling up in his manly arms, the touch of her smooth skin, the morning smile, the roasted marshmallows on campfire, the gaze of the lover's eye, the mating, the first smile of the first child and the satisfaction while landing on the deathbed, ideal.
We think. We idealize. We think of it too often. And then even before realizing it, these things that were once a part of some writers imagination or a part of some actor's script, become the sole purpose of our lives, a very permanent part of our subconscious mind.
We waste our lives, ransacking the shelves of bookstores, searching for the best magazine for 'getting in shape' issues. We rebel our traditions, our cultures for winning the race of identities, of statuses, of  power, of fame. We seldom cuss God too, for not letting it have our way and seldom, deny his existence.
We look for them, we find them, we detest their ways, we loose them. We look for someone better  and after we fail, we try too look for their look-a-likes and we fail again. Then we go looking for them and we realize that it is too late, because they, unlike us have put their pasts behind. They moved on. We IDEALIZE too much. Somebody always needs to remind us that we are not living in a 'Wonderland' like Alice. That sometimes, love needs not to be showed. That sometimes, love by definition is a FEELING not always a noun, but more importantly a verb.
After realizing this, we start to fall in love with those little things that are not mentioned in books and movies. Little things, that we write in our own lives, with our own pen, and our own hand, held by someone dear to us. Little things, that others in no possible way, can define for us. Little things, that are a secret between us and them. Little things, that are greater that any other.
Because Like I Said; We spend part of our lives exploring things, trying to engage with the world, that lives within these small worlds of small things.