Family, lifestyle, Personal, relationships

imperfect.

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I’m sitting in the dim of my kitchen, glass of pinot noir atĀ hand, dead flower petals and strings of ear budsĀ scattered about my desk as I catch glimpses of darkening grey through the window. This shade of slate won’t seem to let up, though we were teased with a few days of shimmery sunshine and afternoons filled with the fluff of cherry blossoms.

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