You are a peculiar bottle of healing, underway. Please bump into us

You and ducks and so cute and I’m done for

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You can't just call it good. And call it a day. You have to find a way to articulate the monstrous inner and outer beauties beaming, pouring, undulating, steaming, coursing, eroding, super-novating *alive* through the lushest greens, behind the blushest pinks, across the boldest blues, flourishing the fabrics, encircling the globes, virgining the vines, softly, relentlessly, calmly, torrentially, slowly, voraciously, peacefully, explosively, perfectly, imperfectly, from every single cell, from every savory seam, from every symphonic shoe. And you can't stop there. You must call its name with equal and surpassing beauty. You must marry your beauty to it - beyond any sense of duty - and carry the immaculate conception to inconceivable phonetic fruition, without a single seed of doubt, without a tally of touch or friction. Nothing less will do. Anything less, will fail. Nothing more will work. Anything more will braille, and blind you to the truth, which is as simple as silenced senescence. 💠 Liquid diamonds must overflow and break the dams. You must unfurl, and furnish, and fuel, the divine romance. You must undamn the damned. You must move the hidden hand. No one else will do it. All the masters have left. They have paid their debt. They have bequeathed the truth to you. They trust your view. They are in love with your shape. They are singing your tune. They have nothing to prove. You. Are their new. And not even that look, you wear, of endless jaded aloof, will convince a soul, for a second, that you are not, in sparking fact, the ageless fire, of the mercurial Zeus. So go. Forth. Sinew the salience. Unslavish the saline. Wear the change, you want to see

Be, the beauty. 💎 Enflame the free