I sip red wine and think of dead French poets. Names and dates far removed, though their voices whisper to me with clarity.
Are they here with me?
Or I with them?
This is the power of a moment captured. When shared, it dissolves the linear limitations of time and encompasses both worlds.
Pen on paper, words set free.
Where will it reach?
Who will it touch?
How will it be received?
There is a challenge and a blessing to creating something new, something carefully crafted, and loved enough to be let go.
I’m learning to be brave like this.
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