at the end of the 25 days of August there was a treasure. who would have thought. not me. never. yet there it is. i am holding it with sand running through my hands. afraid to touch, afraid to look for the fear that it might not be real. curiosity gets hold of me and I am in awe as I open the box. every bit I should have wanted, every bit I need. all there. the lesson to learn remains. the real treasure is somewhere else. the real treasure is you.
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