Well, isn’t this to love?
I’m closing my eyes, taking in the heady scent. Inhaling, exhaling, my heart beating at a steady pace… Wait, no — actually — probably a little faster than usual. I’m a little clammy, a little sticky, a little claustrophobic but all in the right ways. The music, played entirely too loud for this time of night (or morning?), created almost-tangible rhythmic waves in the air that sent vibrations to my toes. I open my eyes, from the half-second break I took to close them, and look around. Even after a few glasses of wine, probably one (or two?) of champagne and swigs of someone’s cheap canned beer in between, I can make out a particular feeling: love.
Let me say that I don’t intend for this post to be some kind of Eat-Pray-Love ramble where I tell you about how much I have found my inner peace by sitting on…
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