it’s not what is served on the table, but who you’re eating with;
it’s not the marble, the glass, the linen, but who’s in it;
it’s not the space and time, not the world either
it’s the child’s embrace, the genuine laughter
it’s the one who stands waiting on the door
the one who thinks you’re enough
the reason, the inspiration… nothing more.
– liz.v –

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