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In every bloom and every brushstroke, the soul came home to itself.

In every bloom and every brushstroke, the soul came home to itself.

In every bloom and every brushstroke, the soul came home to itself.

Not all stories are written in words. Some are held in color. Some in light.

Not all stories are written in words. Some are held in color. Some in light.

Not all stories are written in words. Some are held in color. Some in light.