The ring had slowly cut into her finger several times over the last thirty years. Each time weary grey skin had reached across that seemingly impassable silver river corrupted by long red threads that seeped past her knuckles.
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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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