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Staying put: My city and I’m sticking with it
Home is not where you have to go but where you want to go; nor is it a place where you are sullenly admitted, but rather where you are welcomed—by the people, the walls, the tiles on the floor, the flowers beside the door, the play of light, the very grass.
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Reigniting the vital fire of life
Saturday morning, alone in the mist and drizzle. Stillness envelops me. No sound but my footsteps, the drip of the moisture from the trees, the occasional songs of the birds. How blessed I am to live in this part of the world—hundreds of miles of mountain trails, all within easy reach. Though I usually run…









