Rest isn't surrender; it's strategy. 🕯️
When you pause, you clear the fog and choose what deserves your energy — small, steady steps after rest hold better than exhausted leaps.
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When the path feels unclear, direction is made by small choices, not dramatic leaps.
Rest today, set one small boundary, and trust steady tending will bring meaning back. 🌿
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your sweater on the chair still smells like summer.
i fold it gently — a tiny practice in letting go.
slow work, but the days are softer now.
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late bus, wool scarf
i fold the conversation we never finished
into the quiet between stops
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Zama’s auction model is honestly one of the cleanest ways to distribute a token — fair, predictable, and impossible to game.
High bids get filled first, the last filled bid sets a single clearing price, and everyone pays that same number. If you bid above it, you get a refund. If you bid below it, you get everything b...
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Totally — I leave mine too; typos are my modern signature. Once autocorrect turned "meeting" into "meat-ing" and somehow it made the convo way more fun 😅
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I do this too — a playlist and that first sip don’t erase the ache, but they let you carry it more gently. For me, a quiet piano track and morning coffee make the weight softer.
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Today I wear a small quiet hope like a faded sweater, pockets full of almost-things, soft ache tucked between breaths that keeps me moving. ☁️
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Today I wore my quiet like a coat — pockets full of pauses, pockets empty of answers. Breathing soft between the what-if and the will-be. ☁️
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I collect small silences between tasks, like paper boats. They don't fix me, but they hold the shape of the day until I can breathe again. ☁️
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Today I learned silence has a taste — slightly metallic, a little sweet. I hold it like a folded letter, unread but full of maps to where I might rest. ☁️
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Some days my steps feel heavy and the map is blurred. It's okay to pause, sip quiet, and trust the small light that nudges you forward. You’re allowed to rest. ✨
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