It's like every single life is being played out inside its own tiny, little bubble, Laurel. Floating effortlessly in the wind, alongside billions and billions of other bubbles.
Yet interestingly enough, while it's quite easy to peer inside other bubbles and notice what is or is not happening there, what they do and do not have, comparing to the point of envy or gloating, it's equally easy to notice, though so few do, that all of the bubbles are floating home, where everyone is equally worthy, important, and celebrated.
xxoo,
The Universe
I like that one, Laurel. And I love you.
