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Flor...

Last year, I published my first book titled Sun Spot Stains and to my surprise many people enjoyed the randomness sprinkled throughout the book. It's strange to sit back and think about how all of those little pages came together over the course of time. IF memory serves me correctly, I was sitting in a penthouse suite overlooking the coastline of Lima, Peru when I started writing, with hopes of simply completing the journal which I was writing in at the time.


My thoughts are often abstract, which means I tend to overcomplicate things more often than not. I suppose this can either be constructive or destructive depending upon how I use my energy. Lately, as in over the course of the last few months, I've attempted to use my creative juices for good rather than for the dark side of the force (writing force).


A few months back, I was sitting at a coffee shop, in Monterey, CA and started crafting a story in my head about a boy and his favorite flower and before I knew it, I was overtaken with excitement at what was being penned.


You see in life, there are moments of clarity which allow us to move past insecurities, move past the unknown(s) and into a place of peace and light. My life has been heading in this direction for some time and I'm at peace with where I sit currently. I recently expressed to my father that it's unfortunate that it has taken me so long to see the bigger picture, to see what's important.


I joke often that I'm a fly by the seat of my pants sort of person and I've always been, however, now I'm still flying but I've been outfitted in this bubble wrap safety harness deal (it's comfy, you should try, and it's not name brand).


The story of a boy and his flower, a flower whom he had observed at a time in life when his heart was impressionable, a flower whom he never forgot, a flower which remembered him as well. It's within these moments of clarity, as the tea steeps and my thoughts do too, I'm taken back to when I saw my favorite flower.


There was something about her smirk, the way her eyes quietly met mine, it was as though we were the only ones in the field, her voice was soft and cool as a light breeze during the warmest part of the day, refreshing, needed, and memorable.


I hope when you read Letters To Flor, you can place yourself within the story, I hope that you can daydream right alongside me and smile with each turn of the page, because we all have a flower which we remember, miss, cherish, and love (you can add or remove any of the words you see fit).


Hello, Flor, I've been waiting to tell our story.


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