Sometimes in life we meet someone, we go some place, we hear some song, and our breath is completely taken away. We call it stolen, but in truth, we hand it over freely, offer it up like alms to a beggar’s bowl, knowing there is no choice but to do so, knowing that it was always supposed to be this way. Only a handful of times in my nearly 40 years, has this happened to me, only a few people, only a few places. In those moments, without hesitation or slight room for denial, I knew I didn’t mind drowning if it meant that my breath stayed with them, stayed there, for the rest of me. These moments, these precious few and perfect moments, are mileposts that define our lives.
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