More than Enough
You were never meant to ration delight.
You are a vessel of hunger, yes— but also of flavor, of color, of the small holy act of a peach in sunlight.
Let your clothes fall over you like memory— tailored to the truth of your becoming, not merely stitched to hide your form.
You are not here to endure. You are here to bloom, to touch soft things, to call joy by its name without apology.
This life— let it be more than breath and motion. Let it be yours.
-g.b.