I approached the crude structure and pulled aside a piece of madras fabric that had been fashioned into an entrance. Incense smoke twisted and curled through the air in a thick haze. As my eyes adjusted to the dimly lit, smoke filled room, they fixated upon a Nefertiti-esque woman.
The concept of surrender doesn’t come as innately as my urge to control, so I guess it makes sense that I’ve been at a loss for words. In fact, it’s such a foreign concept to me that the Universe has continued to send me an army of angels to guide me toward living through surrender.
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