I cry for the girl in the pictures on my walls, made of sunshine, who danced among poppy flower fields, finding magic in every heart-shaped rock she would find for her mother.
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It started as a challenge to form a habit, but now it has become much more. My morning walks keep me grounded. While I walk, I float in the spectrum of colours that surround me. Most of the elements of my daily existence have seen a major shift, but the silence of the mornings has travelled with me across boundaries.
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As you gaze at the starlit night, the stars and their history overwhelm you. These are the same stars that have watched empires crumble. The stars that have guided countless wayfarers back home.
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