waves of words bubble through me yet i can’t totally catch the letters to write them down.
it’s the afternoon on a Saturday, and i’m sat in a café crowded with sound and motion.
table for one; just for me, my book and my coffee.
the world inside me feels like a sheer white curtain flowing with the wind. innocence, love, compassion. joy, joy, joy. and a most delicious peacefulness.
i choose not to voice my thoughts, so i write them down.
i bow my head to my book and underline sentences that feel like pure blows of oxygen to my lungs. sentences that the excited child in me urges to share with the next person and dive into discussing them.
i take a look at myself and my life and i see a succession of blessings, meaningful interactions, genuine connections, travel and exploration, pure love and outrageously overwhelming gratitude.
and it dawns on me that i truly am, in this moment, the sum of all the experiences i’ve been through and all the books i’ve read.