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North Blog

Bordeaux

Is it all make sense? All this year?

I don’t know. Maybe none of it does — the choices, the places I bought, the tears I didn’t cry until now. Maybe it’s not supposed to make sense. Maybe it’s just supposed to be felt. This year was heavy. Messy. Real. I thought I was moving forward — turns out, I was just learning how to stand still long enough to breathe. I’m writing this not to explain it — but to say: I’m still here. Still trying. Still figuring out what “enough” looks like. If you’re reading this and you’re tired too — you’re not broken. You’re human. And that’s enough.

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