Sometimes, you think you know yourself well. What you want, where you will be and how you will be. Then, you go through some crisis(often self imposed) and are left questioning and rediscovering a new part of you, that you never knew existed.
Recently, I fell in love with life all over again. It happened in a strange place, in the middle of a museum hall. I was looking at the painting of Irises by Van Gogh. I'd never thought I would fall in love with painting and look at it in so much detail. It was magnificent.
The story behind it was also interesting. Van Gogh painted it when he was in an asylum. Isn't it strange that something so beautiful was created out of an in built frustration? Not strange, amazing rather. How connected is life, if Van Gogh's breakdown all those years ago helped create something which woke me up from a slumber.