I have this memory from childhood, about the first cold autumn day after summer. I’d walk out into my grandparents magical garden and there I’d find flowers drying to various shades of dusty green, grey, sepia, and dark crunchy brown. I loved touching these flowers. With the tip of my fingers I could explore so many different textures.
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While breathing in the chilly Scandinavian air, I realized that summer had ended. Change was coming. And then suddenly, in the back of the garden behind the English roses I spotted there to be ONE last flower still full of color and summer warmth. It was a delicate pink flower standing tall and proud.
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This flower wasn’t afraid of the season changing. It wasn’t sad that summer ended. It just stood there shining like a star with no worries at all. For a moment I felt the strength of this flower entering my soul.
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For the first time in my life I understood that being sensitive and fragile doesn’t mean that you are weak or that you easily break when life is changing. Sensitivity isn’t weakness; it’s a superpower, it helps you feel every single moment intensely and passionately. And for that I’m forever grateful🙏🏻