The sound of the rain patters down, hitting the tiles on the roof and trickling onto the grass. The taste of tea lingers on my tongue from an earlier cup. I want to make another one, but the groove of my body against my pillows has curled into perfection. Faint rumbles of thunder in the distance and the sound of the monitor telling me my computer is still awake, waiting to get some work done. The breathy sighs of my sleepy dogs. The smell of a fresh book wafts past and it’s the perfect soundtrack to a lazy Thursday afternoon. These still instances, a make up of a slow, quiet life. Moments of reflection. Of quiet contemplation.

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