If you were a house, how would you be built?
Low to the ground with few windows? Or near the sky, characterized by sliding doors and window panes? Ornate and complex? Or maybe quaint and plain? A big back yard? Or maybe it’s small. Maybe you don’t want a backyard at all. If you were a house, would you let me in? To get warm by the fire, to shut out the world’s din.
If you were an animal, what would you be?
Would you be big and strong, bold and brawny? Crashing down mountains, loud and scary. Or would you be small and quick, running without care, without concern or worry? With the sun and the trees. With your thoughts. With me.
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