For some, Love arrives bestowed upon them on a clean white plate, with nothing more than the most sincere promises of a newly carved tomorrow. For others, Love sits on their doorstep, gift-wrapped in a clear container with golden ribbon trimmings, an embodiment of the very image of Love each individual holds dear to their hearts.
For me, my Love is the sound I hear in the depths of my repository, humming vows of faith with every note, painting a magnificent mirage I call my own.Fancy me waxing lyrical over cookies, really.
p/s: I’ve yet to resume baking for the household, and actually have no idea where to start, can you believe it? If you’d like, perhaps you can throw in some suggestions for my next bake. Just no more cookies, please. I’m all cookie-d out