Are we not like open books, wearing hearts on our sleeves, visible and endearing as dog-eared pages, yet knowing the best we offer, the juiciest parts of us, will be found only by those wanting, daring enough, to read between the lines?
I believe each day gives us something; a few minutes of afternoon light casting intricate shadows on a dining room wall, or a delicious Pesto because the basil got knee-high.
Maybe some things broke my heart.......
I write about them all.
My name is Becca. I live in Dallas but I left my heart in Florence, Italy. I'd like to thank you for reading.