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i want to write more letters in the afternoon, with the white light streaming through the windows, the dog next to my beanbag, the blue of my studio ambient.

i want to play ball with charlie more often, the sunset reflecting in his golden fur, his expectant face and the way he runs and makes me laugh.

i want to walk up the stairs to work {all 13 sets of them} and feel like i can climb to a temple in india.

i want to be conscious – of my hands, my eyes, my belly, my heart. when they aren’t feeling right, and when they are flooding over with love.

i want to wake up every damn morning and feel GLAD.

i want more candlelight dinners with my lover, and more of these deep conversations, where i fall in love with him over and over again.

i want more balance.

i want creative satisfaction.

i want to live with an inherent knowing of my divine preciousness.

i want to have red shoes.

i want to be present for more sunrises and sunsets.

i want to reside in my temple gracefully.

i want to have pen ink on my hands, and paint under my nails when i fall asleep.

i want to travel this year. i yearn for it with an aching that threatens to spill over. i want to be out of my world and in someone else’s. i want to be saturated with colours and smells.

i want my eyes to see beautiful things everyday.

i want to go for more walks.

and in the winter months, i want my beloved to wake me like he used to, when we first moved here, and take me for drives in the dawn just to watch the mist rolling and the glow of dawn, and take photos just like these…

i want to remember that excitement, that dreaminess where anything was possible and everything was new, just waiting to be discovered.

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