“Tell me the story about how the sun loved the moon so much he died every night to let her breathe.” “ there once was a moon, as beautiful as can be, only the stars could fathom, but the sun could not see. The sun so radiant, he burns so bright. The.
You can choose to live your life with the joy of the front row or solemness of the third row. The choice is yours. That's me in the front row with my joy. Those are my coworkers in the third row. Every day is a struggle to keep them from killing my joy.