Lights are dimmed. The room is silent except for the low crackle of the old fireplace.
She sits on the edge of the couch, knees bent, feet flat on the cushion, wrapped in her favorite black kimono silk robe, naked beneath it, entirely free. Her book rests open in her
Ah, wine.
Isn’t it fascinating how wine has long been a male-dominated industry, and yet, whether in movies, shows, or real life, it’s so often the woman holding a glass of red at night, or sipping sparkling wine in the bath?
There’s something about wine that feels
Lately, I’ve been thinking about motivation, and how I’m simply no longer available for the kind that feels like force.
Maybe I’m being too harsh with Mr. Motivation.
But I wonder if what we call a lack of motivation is simply the absence of inner desire.
And