Perhaps the soul is your fridge door, a consistent spot to place random drawings or snapshots of those you love. Amidst grocery lists, greasy fingerprints, unpaid parking tickets, love notes with assorted reminders or mementos, you find all important things. Like poetry taped up over the years, and left to weather time or the next event, there are irrelevant, yet intentional examples of life as it happens. Open the door, see the light, there are good things inside.
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