You have a wanderer in your soul. You lose yourself in a beautiful poem, in the music of forgotten lands, in scribbling your audacious thoughts in a moleskine, in exquisite creations. You don’t know it, but you are a triumph over the ordinary, an affirmation of all things unapologetically fabulous, more beguiling than beauty itself.

Because you are your own frailty and strength. Because in a world that’s heaving for breath, you still take its breath away. Because you constantly send postcards to yourself. Because you are the song that’s unashamedly cathartic and impossible to remix.

There’s something about you that: let’s the melody shine, lets it cleanse the air around you, let’s you break the mould and yet remain spellbindingly unchanged. This is your own sweet symphony, your very own piece of the sun around which a parallel universe revolves.

Your laugh tells a story. Unfiltered, unabashed, rapturous. Behind it, a discreet story told only by the unfettered beat of your heart.

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