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I am writing a novel that is rewriting me.
Death is the only true magician.
Dreams need to be ripped open, their layers discarded like gift-wrap in order to come true.
Happiness is not created. It is uncovered.
Words should be harvested like crops.
Being mindful makes my mind full.
Breath is a gift that stokes the fire of life.
I am human. I know nothing.
I once had a black suitcase with a broken handle that I fixed by attaching a blue and white cotton scarf to the strap. I lugged it around Europe and it twisted and turned as I pulled, buckling under its weight. Still, it made the six-week journey. We all have weathered suitcases packed with dreams, hopes, achievements, disappointments, losses, successes. Even if our suitcases break or get too heavy, they will take us where we want to go as long as we don’t let go of that handle. 2015 was about belief and perseverance. Here’s to 2016! Make it amazing!