Written Stories

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As I sat down to begin reading, I quickly realized this was a letter to be savored.  Not one to be simply read.  It was one that required intention and being in the moment with it.  It was reading a love story.  Getting a glimpse into the life and love of someone I met one weekend years ago in NYC.  One whom years later I would quite naturally become pen pals with.  But, here, sitting across the entire United States, I can picture her life, her love, and am privy to seeing into her deeper inner self.  It is a privilege and a joy.  One to which I make a ceremony out of.  To make a cup of loose leaf tea.  To sit and savor.  To be grateful.  To give honor to the story I was about to read.  

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