breakage of the best intentions

The photo below gives a key to the world of metaphors.

Beautiful places please the eyes and drowse, yet the chippy corners awake and urge to rewrite the diaries.
That's not my musings but the photo story of what's upon the chapped blacktop - while posting, I was sharing not the beauty of my eyesight but pleaded for your help to restore one of my blogs, if that is still possible at all
Can the picture serve us as the remedy to melancholy? Is the rejoicing over the beauty of the things we see not  the breakage of the best intentions to join all people with everlasting love?
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