There is magic in this world

Sometimes, as a middle-aged man, the world feels too much like an ordinary place filled with the drudgery of repetitive tasks. I’ve done the same trip to the grocery store hundreds of times. I’ve loaded and unloaded the dishwasher thousands of times, moving dishes too and from the same spot in an endless loop. Clean, dirty, clean, dirty. I’ve walked or driven the same path to and from the office countless times. The muscle memory so fine-tuned from repetitions that I can do it on autopilot as my mind drifts or goes blank.

But every now and then, I remember. I remember back to when I first saw a pair of female breasts, live and in-person. And I remember that there is magic in this world.


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