The soul travels in bookstores, quiet moments, when walking under a leafy green tree on a sidewalk, hearing the leaves whisper softly, saying “I got you” and exhaling… ever so slowly, but with reassurance, knowing with a leap of certainty (not of faith), that it’s all going to be ok, because there are verses of song, there is friendship, there are enchanted moments where your story takes a different turn than the one you expected, and above all…

there is love…

unfiltered, pure love, like sunlight, streaming in through the window after days of rain,

and the scent of coffee, along with the irreplaceable comfort of a warm embrace that could only be his.

The soul travels even when it doesn’t leave the city, because it always has something to give, someone to love, and a kind word to say. It is always in search of inspiration and ways to shake things up, and to move good energy forward.

It thrives when meeting new people and hearing their stories, listening to what makes them feel alive, what has brought them pain, and if they have transcended it, how they have grown from it…

or perhaps none of the above, just being there in their presence, and glimpsing a bit of the divine in them, a bit of the magic that connects each of us to the other, in a tapestry that no one knows the way out of, each thread circling back to the infinite, forming patterns of colour and swirling their way through our common story, that traces its roots to a place unknown.

The soul travels in bookstores….

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