Being Beautiful Means Being Our Crazy, Silly, Embarrassing Selves and Loving Every Moment of It
An Ode to my Favourite Season; here is one of my favourite pieces. As the Wind ran his familiar fingers across my cheeks, he played with my hair, freeing strands from under my scarf. Unfazed and determined to catch my bus, I continued to walk. …
The Sky was a cloudless pale blue, as I stepped onto my deck on a cool August evening. I rested my head against the backrest of the patio chair, and gazed out into the backyard, past the neighbouring homes, and at all that I could …