The truth is—magic lives in all of us who choose to look for it. It lives in the morning in the springtime, it’s in the smell of the world after the rain, or a stormy afternoon in bed on a Sunday, it’s in warm sweaters and a lovers’ nook, it’s in those days that never end, and the days that end too soon. It’s in every spicy margarita or bathtub with rosé, it’s in good books and Spanish beaches, it’s in forests where the trees sway or lakes that shine back the moon. It’s in art; it’s in music; it’s in words. It’s in you and it’s in me and any of us that choose to find it. For the greatest truth
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