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“Joining her at the table, Liz said, “They’re ever-changing. Swirling, dilating, expanding. To look at, you’d think they hardly move at all, but they actually travel at around a hundred miles an hour.” She took Naomi’s hands in hers again. “We are never stuck, my love. We’re always moving towards something, whether we see it or not. And yes, sometimes we’re forced to bear the greyness of life, but eventually the sun shines through us again.” She smiled, her pink papery cheeks resembling the inside of a rose. “As Maya Angelou once said, ‘Every storm runs out of rain’.” — Carly Ratcliffe
Joining her at the table, Liz said, “They’re ever-changing. Swirling, dilating, expanding. To look at, you’d think they hardly move at all, but they actually travel at around a hundred miles an hour.” She took Naomi’s hands in hers again. “We are never stuck, my love. We’re always moving towards something, whether we see it or not. And yes, sometimes we’re forced to bear the greyness of life, but eventually the sun shines through us again.” She smiled, her pink papery cheeks resembling the inside of a rose. “As Maya Angelou once said, ‘Every storm runs out of rain’.