Tag: beauty

  • Prose and Poetry: Explorers of a Breathing Forest – 15/10/19

    Prose and Poetry: Explorers of a Breathing Forest – 15/10/19

    Your eyes dart from left to right. Taking in the view, you know you appear confused. But, what does it matter? Appearances are nothing when you are alone, surrounded by no other living things. The forest appears to breathe though, with life it heaves and puffs, the life within these trees, this shrubbery, this undergrowth, is teaming with a sense of alertness that you are unable to wholly see. You can still feel it though, sense it, quivering beneath the surface, and you heave your breaths along with them, the forest you inhale and exhale with the lot of them.

    You know not to touch though, to seek further, to spread apart the flowering shrubbery or to part the bushes from the trees. There may lay something dangerous inside, and you are not wont to look, you prefer to carry on with your life path, strictly you are on the path of seeking another form of outlook. Each step reminds you that you have turned away from the shudders, the living creatures hidden, hiding well away, because each footstep you take, the vibrations grow smaller and of less frequency, and this pleases you, for you can move on with what you seek.

    What you seek is a place to lay, a place to rest your world-weary cheeks, to reside in a canopy of fronds that will tickle yet cause deep feelings of momentous pleasure-causing breaths, high then lower bounds and leaps. Where you can rest with quiet confidence that you will be uninterrupted, you’d even take an isolated gorge as a place of rest, if this solitude were presented. But now you discover a nook in the canopy, and further below what appears a gnawed-out area within some undergrowth, and here you are pressed for choice, which shall you select? With a firm conviction you crawl, hands and knees, into the tightly hollowed undergrowth perfect for someone of your stature and your stature alone, and you now breathe in the welcoming woody scent. You may have found yourself a warming and protective home.

    Huddled, you rest, knees to your chest, rocking back and forth to generate some extra heat, as well as an expulsion of additional nervous energy, for you feel something is forthcoming. On the horizon there is no proof, no inkling that there will be a change in the view, but you can sense it, and your heart quivers with this truth.  It is as though you possess an extrasensory perception for these kinds of things, and like the breathing of the forest which you also breathed with, you hone in on the sense of trepidation you have come to associate with this futuristic feeling.

    But there is nothing to fear, a brightness appears, heralding something close by, something becoming nearer. Your heart bounces and bounces; with each beat it creates for your life to continue onward, for your life to continue to be held lovingly dear. Then this light draws closer to you, seems to hone in on your presence, as though you are the heated target it seeks to reach its ill-fated doom. Instead of an explosion, the orb attaches itself to you, nestled through the occasionally-jagged undergrowth and now you feel yourself warming.

    Hotter and hotter you become, as if your face is awash with burning shame, and then you realise that you are actually positively glowing. Glowing with the sense of confidence that you had lost for years, a strength of personal abundance that will keep you going and knowing that you are something fierce and mighty to combat, not something helplessly wasting away. That you are strong, you are an almighty being who you can now completely believe in. A sense of personal mystery is no longer vibrating as your aura. You are now glowing perfectly.

    Feel the sense of freedom that comes with being your true self. At believing that you are talented, intelligent, on a path of truthful self-enlightenment. That you do not need to hide yourself away, ashamed at your apparent lacking of flowery traits and self-concepts, because you already possess the formula that life has projected within your mind and heart. You know these experiences better than any crowd who believes they knew the lot of them.

    Possess your self-worth and place freshly bloomed flowers within it as if it were a freshly blown glass vase, because you are now transparent and there is only true beauty to view. Understand there may be slight imperfections, perhaps cracks or internal bubbles, but know this: you are amazing, and you have finally found the right view. It was always sitting within you, your internal mirror, the true reflection of you.

    © 2019 Alice Well Art, Lauren M. Hancock also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.


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  • Poem: A Mirror of Blossoming Colours – 05/10/19

    Poem: A Mirror of Blossoming Colours – 05/10/19

     Stardust, starlight and blossom so bright,
    A mention of colours I see tonight
    Be they bold, subdued, or delicate, or brutal,
    I see them;
    Internally, I can feel them.
     
    It is as though each colour has an emotion,
    I assign a meaning to each shade, each hue,
    Only I absorb their meanings,
    I can hear them,
    Can they feel my appreciation, too?
     
    Like a beautiful tropical bloom in my sight,
    The combinations become heightened
    As my emotions grow in power,
    There is nothing beyond my colours,
    but an ephemeral fog which will last and obscure us
    for a little while longer.
     
    But the shades, oh, the shades,
    How they make me feel such tender turmoil,
    Their assigned meanings remind me of
    The yearning years
    Where I was delicate and life was anything but simple.
     
    Where I ached for someone to truly notice my colours
    The uniqueness that my vibrancy displayed,
    How I wasted many years chasing other shades
    Not suited to me,
    Monochromatic in shade.
     
    I thought they were right,
    I thought they would complement me,
    But my hues were too flamboyant and different,
    I wasn’t accepted -
    Always viewed as something other than wanted
    Usually indifferently,
    An undesirable, unpopular oddity.
     
    But now I can bloom with brilliance
    Just like this summoned flower before me
    In fact, it is as though it is my mirror
    Reflecting myself back at me.
     
    I no longer need to hide away,
    I can blossom and shine without doubt
    Without feeling afraid,
    The absence of approval is easy enough to do without,
    And my true self I do not need to disguise or hide away.

    © 2019 Alice Well Art, Lauren M. Hancock also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.


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  • Poem: “The Angular Monstrosity” – 24/09/19

    Poem: “The Angular Monstrosity” – 24/09/19

     She rises from the depths
    from the phantom-riddled deep
    the angular monstrosity of the high North Sea.
     
    She attempts to make a show of her pride
    with the way she presents herself
    a reflection of the way she views her interior —
    her internal kaleidoscopic picture.
     
    As a beautiful creature with so much to offer
    she cannot understand why observers would shriek run and hide
    when they would see her:
    Would they prefer she introverted,
    and be the one to emotionally and physically hide?
     
    What was so terrifying with her
    means of angularity
    of differing degrees of separation —
    the very thought of her apparent failings
    caused her severe crippling anxiety.
     
    Was she truly less than perfection?
    Was her interior view an entire riddled mess?
    How could she bear to survive when before others
    she was viewed as unwanted, undeserving, severely unblessed?
     
    What it all came down to
    was an understanding of self-acceptance
    that there was nothing there for this angular being to
    reconsider in a negative means
     
    nothing to make her feel her presence was
    unwarranted unnecessary completely underwhelming.
     
    Instead her heart beats with renewed vigour
    as we smile upon her, cheer her on,
    allow her to grow with her quiet confidence to reconsider
     
    that the negative views were borne of nothing true in reality
    and here she is in her beautiful angularity
    showing us her truths,
    in all her perfection and polarity of thoughts, feelings and views.   
     
    For we are all different but essentially we are one
    together our hearts can beat
    Our chest swollen with pride at knowing that
    we, like this beauty,
    are the emotionally strong ones.
     
    And for those who are not quite there yet
    you will make it with some work
    some trust
    some dispelling of inner hurt.
     
    You will make it, my friends,
    simply view our angular beauty as she
    twists and turns her limbs in celebration
    of her personal development and love and acceptance which
    we truly must commend.

    © 2019 Alice Well Art, Lauren M. Hancock also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.


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  • Story: A Resplendent Stag At His Own Stag Do – 04/09/19

    Story: A Resplendent Stag At His Own Stag Do – 04/09/19

    There was a lucky stag, who was marrying the most wonderful deer in the world, tonight was his stag do, tonight would be when he celebrated at the same time but a different place to the girls. Usually the night would be filled with heavy drinking, antler fighting, wide eyed ogling, but this wasn’t what he wanted for himself, he didn’t want to sin. Besides, this stag wasn’t interested in drinking excessively, waking up feeling horrid, pains a-plenty, what he was interested in was projecting a special sense of beauty. He had always held a fond feeling, a soft spot, for the sublime and the visually appealing, and his stag friends knew that this was how he wished to celebrate, to project an aesthetically pleasing viewing.

    Now, in a quiet corner of the forest they approached him, sombre, with a cascading wreath and male veil all of his own, placing the creation from Nature upon his antlers, his face, around his head, his crown. Upon their tippy toes they adorned him, made him shine resplendent from afar, the flowers, the buds, the leaves, brightening this special stag-star. One friend walked slowly with a full-length elaborately decorated mirror, presenting his stag friend with the visual version of who he presently was. With great delight and a widened smile, he threw his head back and grinned, admiring himself from left to right, all for a while did he.

    “What a beauty I have become,” he breathed, so astonished. “Who made this crown for me, my veil, the maker I wish to know them!” Never before had he seen such an intricate crown made for anyone else, let alone him, and he was the King of collecting nature made crowns and other such things. In fact, at home he had stowed in the closet secretly from his future wife the amount of three times twelve, and she would never discover his collection because it was hidden incredibly well. But this crown veil took the cake, it was weaved so specially for him, the flowers and buds so dainty as they’d been plucked, preserved, tamed, and strangely he felt like what a goddess must feel like, a beautiful version of a nature queen. Because this veil was not manly, it appealed to the feminine inside, and this was the part of himself that he liked to be in touch with, it was a gentler part of his insides. He could be a manly stag, making noises to draw attention, fighting with other antlers of strong stag men, but when it came to general life, this stag preferred to be gentle and loving, and not so over protective and wild.

    “It was Mrs. Simbalina!” one of his stag friends announced. “She was the one who created this for you, she must have known of your character quite well?”

    “Bring her forth to me!” he roared in a manner quite proudly, as he preened and viewed himself again in the mirror, my, it was a glorious scene to behold. He became lost in absorbing the beauty that he usually only felt within, now it was as though Mrs. Simbalina’s creation had drawn out his beautiful inner truth and sense of visual beauty which was now available to be seen. It wasn’t as if he classed himself as unattractive usually, but this crown and veil made him feel quite chuffed, so pleased. Soon, the maker mouse was brought to him.

    “Mrs. Simbalina! May I please pay my dues, you have brought the beauty out from within me, look at this wondrous view!” And with a flourish he turned his head this way and that, and groomed the flowing buds of premature roses, until, unfortunately, he accidentally pruned them from their holds, and that was that. Oh, how his heart ached, he threw his head back and produced a guttural wail, what had he done, he had planned to use this veil at the altar, with his lover before him, her eyes captured upon his face, surrounded by this magic veil before her unveiling.

    “What have I done?” he cried, tears wept from each inner corner of his eyes.

    “Do not fret, Brett,” she said to the stag. “I can make you another instead.” Instantly his eyes dried up as though a puddle would were it placed within a parched desert. He thanked her profusely, and allowed her to leave, of her craft to get on with it. And within two hours she had returned with the most resplendent veil and crown you could ever hope to see, amazing at her life’s work was Mrs. Simbalina, so talented was she.

    When Brett and his love’s special day came, they were both wearing their own version of veils, and surprisingly they were made by a craftswoman one and the same. Each one brought out a particular characteristic from the other; the feminine from Brett, brought out the stronger part in his other. As though the veils reflected the way that they were already intertwined in life, they held hands, joined their lives, and their truth was there to be witnessed, held together with love and affection that was wholly meant. And Mrs. Simbalina was secretly taken on by the Stag and his staff as a craftswoman of immense talent and secretive means to alter another’s life course, though her skills would never be openly spoken of, only held within careful silence from east to west, from south to north. Why? It was safer that way, because Mrs. Simbalina had to be carefully guarded due to her ability to exceptionally alter and cause.

    © 2019 Alice Well Art, Lauren M. Hancock also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.


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  • Story: Sammi the Beautiful Girl With Two Missing Teeth – 14/08/19

    Story: Sammi the Beautiful Girl With Two Missing Teeth – 14/08/19

    Sammi was a beautiful girl, inside and out. Her hair and skin glowed, shone throughout. Her effervescent personality made others joyous and gay, she was a bubbly, vivacious girl, and she loved to make others happy and keep them entertained. However, Sammi had a personal nightmare, it was evident when she grinned, she always hid behind her open hand, because missing were her two of her teeth. She was ashamed to grin like the other children, to show her remaining pearly whites to the world, she was always told that beauty came from within, but within her mouth was where her exterior beauty ended, she believed, it was the torment of her inner world. She was scared of being judged, frightened of being viewed of as uncool, she knew she had beautiful characteristics and traits, but she wished her teeth had never been taken so soon.

    That moment when she had toppled, so happily hanging from the monkey bars, when her teeth made impact with her shins, despite this being in the past, the memories of the pain, as they hit against each other, the ‘crack’ heard inside her brain, made her wish she had not been so careless. If she’d fallen slightly differently, the dentist had said, her teeth could have been saved, instead she was left with unsightly gaps, and pain within her that was always there, within her memories never going away. Instead they had shattered, unable to be retrieved, her baby teeth gone, never to be again seen. And cry and cry all that day, and into the next did she, poor little Sammi, her beauty compromised, her dream of being a beauty queen seemingly gone, her sorrow spread quite freely. And the times when she accidentally burst into a giggle or a guffaw, and unintentionally she showed her teeth, she became chilli red and frightfully embarrassed, for, she wanted nothing more than to hide in her bed, trying to ward off her fiercely warm complexion as though it were a contagious disease about her face, her head.   

    For now, Sammi’s dreams of being on show, walking down the runway with teenage model beauties from all over the world were scrapped now, her dreams once a whirlwind, an utter whirl, were now apparently unattainable for this unfortunate little girl. She had planned to grow into the industry, continuing her weekend beauty shows, but now, her best friend Susan scorned her, saying she was no longer the best in show.

    “I’m telling you the truth, now,” she said firmly, “Not wanting to hurt you one bit, but those gaps in your mouth, they should be covered or filled, fix them with false teeth.” Her heart fell the most heavily at Susan’s sharpened words, for she was the closest friend in Sammi’s world, she could not understand why she was being such a nasty girl, was she suddenly cruel, no longer caring, had she fallen under a strange spell? Surely she understood that Sammi could smile without her teeth being shown wide, she could walk the runway and wave with delicateness, with glamorous pride, and there was no need for anyone to know that she was missing her teeth, she would train her mouth to disguise the apparent flaws, this uniqueness that she held within.

    “I will still enter Miss Terrific Teenage World,” she vowed, from the age of still a little girl. “I will take on all the beauties, I will experience all there is to be seen and told.” And at that, she felt confident, that she could do this, despite her insecurities, despite her feelings that she was inadequate for simply missing two teeth. Although her mother and father had reassured her that her teeth would grow back, Sammi was dubious, their assertion did not seem a fact. She was certain that the two specific teeth she had lost were adult teeth, not baby ones, and that the dentist had simply gotten his facts wrong, and that of dentistry he possibly had much more to learn. After all, she had to prepare herself for the truth, that if she was not receiving any replacement teeth, she would perform the most, her utmost, at adaption; this was what she would do. And practised in the mirror, smiling and talking, while surreptitiously disguising her pearly whites at every minute free of her day and night, finally she gained great skill at deception, so she would not give even the most unsuspecting passerby a sudden fright.

    As she grew, the time for Miss Terrific Teenage World finally arrived. She was flown to New Mexico, where all the other contestants were nervously biting their nails, drinking sugar free caffeine drinks, and others were with bright eyes, running on adrenaline, utterly alive. By this stage of her youth, Sammi had the art of speaking eloquently and with deception of her missing teeth down to a fine art, no one could tell, no one even knew, that she was different from the start. All they saw was her lovely face, her styled dress, her flamboyant nails and hair – the dress selected was a bit risque, but with the finery detailed upon the jewelled strapless garment to match her glittery, bejewelled necklace, she felt both at peace and excited beyond belief, she understood that her message to be shared with the world was heaven sent.

    And when it came time for her to address the world, in the capacity that she knew of so well, she spoke of freedom, and false alliances to be broken, and strength in numbers, and holding self worth and confidence, that when she was greeted by an almighty audience cheer, a standing ovation far and near, she burst into a widened grin, no longer uncertain that she should hide herself anymore, she knew to shine from the outside and within. She wept tears of happiness when she was awarded first prize, the first teenage beauty to win with a couple of teeth missing beneath her rosy cheeks, beneath her expressive eyes. It didn’t matter whether they were there or not, for the truth be finally told, she was an amazing individual, whose stunted adult teeth would finally, eventually, in one single year, grow.

    © 2019 Alice Well Art, Lauren M. Hancock, also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.

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  • Story example: Brushy the Makeup Brush Makeup Artist – 31/07/19

    Story example: Brushy the Makeup Brush Makeup Artist – 31/07/19

    Brushy the Brush was on a unique path of self discovery.

    Brushy was a makeup artist like no other, she liked to provide her customers the ultimate powder. From her kit she would extract a mixture of bronzer and blusher and at that, she would dump her head into them, clean for a second, then rubbing herself excessively into the pigmented colour, she was ready to gently splat. Now saturated with pink and brown, a dusting onto the palette by her hand, then onto their faces for contouring and highlighting together to be had.

    One might find it cute, unique, that a makeup artist was an actual makeup brush, but one must take into consideration her prior history, of her struggles which were so very rough. The discrimination toward her at beauty school, the confusion she tolerated from those who were mere fools, they did not understand her dream to be an actual application queen, her dreams she understood and knew she would succeed.  In the best of her situations, in life she would pursue, her dream of contouring faces, using wild makeup colours, lining eyes with fierce cat eye liner, touching up with a dropping of luminescent powder, what say you to her dreams of becoming an ultimate beauty application queen of quiet power?

    From her outer world she kept these dreams to herself, secretly, she understood they were not for anyone else, to know or be made privy of just yet, for it was better to appear to coast on autopilot and then in the future surprise everybody with her victory and bests. Besides, she was laughed at often for being a brush, often she’d hear, “Why don’t you stick to your actual life task?” At a comment such as this she would grin reluctantly and grit her teeth, doing her best to keep silent she would walk away and seethe. It was difficult not to react to such ignorant comments made to her when they did not know the facts.  

    For, since the age of two she had been practising applying makeup to her dollies, Baby and Boo, and then she progressed to the difficult task of defining her hairy face with contouring colours and adding pretty pastel eye shadow shapes and marks. The day that she finally succeeded at a full face application she wanted to weep with pride, instead she held herself together – as much as a luxurious brush could – and pulled her mother into her bedroom, to view a close up of her face, the victory that was inside.

    From the outer appearance, she had shimmering black noir shadings with steel highlights, then gazing deeper into the brush head, she had light, brightened, pink and purple and gold eyes shadow, and silvery cat liner eyes. And finally, the piece de resistance was observing her face highlighted and shaded, creating an illusion of a human shaped oblique face for visual consumption.

    Now that she had graduated college, with the highest marks and best portfolio within her year, not only her class, she knew she was now ready to make it on her own, her reputation would grow at last. No longer was she a mere student, absorbing new knowledge each day, she was an actual graduate, with a piece of paper to show for her hard work, over the many months, years and days. And slowly, then quicker, rapidly, more, with the word of mouth spreading throughout the online world of her work, and her special techniques and unique makeup application skills, as well as the novelty factor of being able to provide a full face of beautiful makeup by an object which was meant to only have one role to fill.

    All of a sudden, a worried future client arrived hours early, knocking at her door.

    “Brushy, Brushy, I need your assistance, please open your door!” Brushy heard the panic in her voice, there was certainly something remiss, she flung open her front door with great gusto and allowed the future client within.

    “What is the matter?” she asked. “I wasn’t expecting you for several more hours,”
     and with a saddened face the client explained, “I need a new disguise, from my partner who is running backwards and forwards outside, muttering that I have filled his life with lies.” She went on to explain that the partner was most frantic, and somewhat, perhaps manic and psychotic, for her had been off his medication for two whole weeks, the stabilisers and antipsychotics were required for him to live positively and coherently, without losing his cool at home or on the streets.

    “Why don’t you help him?” Brushy asked, aghast. “If you love him, help save him, from his troubling thoughts which might last. Do not run away, but I will help you today, if you alter your plan, and provide assistance to this poor man.”

    And so the client agreed to help him, after she would receive the new makeup disguise, for Brushy was skilled at special effects makeup application also, and this meant essentially she was providing her client a new face mask. And then together, once complete, they snuck out onto the streets, quietly and gently approached the man who looked at them deep with fright and prepared to violently scream.

    “Honey, honey, it’s me,” she called. “I needed this disguise to come nearer to you. Please, darling, come with me, your doctor or the hospital we need to see.”

    Brushy tagged along, to ensure that he received the medical assistance he had likely needed for those two weeks, they must have felt so long, and into care he would go, his medication reinstated, observations in tow. And after a year Brushy heard a frantic knocking on her door again, she flung it open with trepidation and there stood that very man!

    “Brushy, I wanted to thank you, for what you did that night,” he said, eyes genuinely glistening with hope and pride. “Sometimes of my medical condition I lose control, and you assisted me to correcting my life. For now I am engaged to my love, your intervention helped us build, become more, cherish our love, and now I look after my health the best I can, always, for now my love and I have a daughter on the way.”

    With tears glistening in her one, single eye, Brushy leaped forth and leaned her brushy head on his shoulder and proceeded to cry. It was this moment that she knew, that she had made a true difference in the life of a client, and wasn’t this a great moment of her life truths to be held up and vividly viewed upon, so beautifully brightened?

    © 2019 Alice Well Art, Lauren M. Hancock, also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.

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  • Poem and Drawing: Jacqui’s Worldly Beauty – 27/07/19

    Poem and Drawing: Jacqui’s Worldly Beauty – 27/07/19

    Picturesque Jacqui striking a pose.

    When Jacqui looked into the full length mirror that day,

    What did she see that led her astray?

    Was it the small bump on her nose?

    The purpled birthmark above her left toes?

    Or the misshapen right eyebrow that needed delicate plucking and multitasked managing?

    Everything Jacqui could see before her, of herself,

    Caused her to be displeased.

    Nothing was perfect,

    Nothing was right,

    To her she needed a reimaging, an overhaul, a makeover,

    To match her insides.

    She knew that internally, she was a beautiful, loving, caring person,

    This her mother would reflect each and every morning saying,

    “Jacqui, keep being loving, keep being kind, everyone sees you for the beauty you have and are inside.”

    Yet these words halted her,

    It was as though she was visibly unworthy of her inner truths,

    That her personality did not match the outer appearance,

    And it was as though her mother was hinting at that too.

    So when Jacqui looked in a reflective surface,

    Desperate to find something visible to adore,

    She could only find faults, problems, wrong, wrong, wrongs,

    Nothing that could be appreciated and admirably looked upon and mentally stored.

    But Jacqui was lovely!

    Jacqui was fantastic!

    She wore her head bald and proud,

    A statement to the world,

    That she was different from the crowd.

    She knew how to pose for photos,

    In a most inventive, imaginative, photogenic manner,

    And with false bravado,

    She could even break into runway modelesque behaviour.

    It did not matter what flaws she believed she had,

    For these were so minute they were small, of such paling insignificance,

    That I could squash them with my forefinger and thumb into disappearance.

    For the truth of the matter is Jacqui was a wondrous being, inside and out,

    And she simply needed some convincing,

    Some cajoling,

    To know that she was wonderful, and the world was better with her,

    Not without.

     And one fine day, at the park she happened upon a lost dog,

     “Are you lost, dear honey?” she asked, bent at the knees and gently patting his scruffy fur.

    “RUFF!” the dog ruffed, and led her to her future love, a great star.

    With wonder, Jacqui approached his presumable owner,

    And reflected in his big brown eyes,

    She saw herself, awe and star struck,

    Trembling quietly inside.

    Was this her love, her future man, was this who she was meant to be with for life’s tumultuous ride?

    Struck with a similar feeling, the man smiled at her knowingly,

    “Jacqui? I’ve heard of you, beautiful, intelligent, kind and lovely You,” and with a wild anticipation, she pictured herself with him forever: him, her, and Ruff the dog, living at the house across the street, number twenty two.  

    I shan’t suggest any further,

    Whether Jacqui had met the man who would help her understand,

    With his reassuring,

    That she was perfect,

    Internally and externally.

    But if you have a certain hunch,

    That this man at least asked her out to lunch,

    You’d probably be right,

    And the answer would be some positively worded muttering or uttering of such and such.

    The rest was for Fate to decide.

    © 2019 Alice Well Art, Lauren M. Hancock, also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.

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