Saturday, April 21, 2018


She didn’t get much from me. That glorious red mane is the legacy of a long-dead ancestor. Clear skin through adolescence? Not me. Beautiful singing voice? Definitely not me. Ruthless minimalism? Nope. I’m learning that from her. She got my nose (sorry, Kiddo). And somehow, despite all her gifts, she got my self-doubt.


  1. I'm sure it's not your self-doubt. Self-doubt is rampant. Hard to imagine, though, when I look at her dazzling image.

  2. Yeah, damn that self-doubt. I know few women that don't have it.

  3. Self-doubt was what lurked under hope in Pandora's box.


Catching up day 3

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