That summer we learned to speak with our legs to speak only in murmurs and laurels of muted smoke ancient music of buried under gardenia, our virgin thighs bandaged with pale rose-edged and rayon garter. Black, our last summer. Listen, this is how we became killers // why our eyes opened red sequin stars in …

In thinking about when we might have lost our peace we might need to go back to our childhood. Back to a time when we enjoyed smelling flowers and caressing animals and exploring nature. A time way before society got us reformed to their way of competitive and materialistic thinking, bringing upon us that hectic …

You can feel the whole world and still feel lost in it. So many people are in pain – no matter how smart or accomplished – they cry, they yearn, they hurt … We all want the same things: comfort, love, and a peaceful heart. Mitch Albom,  Have a Little Faith: a True Story