PKIA: My Story

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Happy Anniversary PKIA!

July 23rd, 2010

Bella said it best “Momma, it feels like we were just visiting Nashville, and now we’ve returned home to Malibu.”

I’m telling you she nailed it there, the moment we begin our decent into LAX I start to get the Chihuahua buzz, my knees shake and I wanna pee on the rug.  Once we make it from the back of the airplane and step into the actual airport I’ve got to contain myself – LA is one of those places on earth where humanity dreams – these dreams are big time and then sent out via television and film into the world.  Of course now we all know that this is changing considering where most of us go for entertainment – the Internet and folks like me can be anywhere and producing content, however LA continues to be the main hub of “what if ?”

We are here for two weeks, hanging out on the beach and checking out houses, yep it’s that time – the question is on the table – do we return to the West Coast? Stay in Nashville, or pick a new spot?

Lee has really gotten the Ranch back together after the floods, and in the process we’ve also changed partners; bringing in some new folks and freeing Lee up to try his hand at some new ventures.  All this says to us that we don’t “Have” to be in Nashville.

The other night I went to meet up with some friends from high school who were passing through Nashville, when one of them asked me “So do you like it here?” I had a total out of body experience, watching myself answer “Yeah, it’s a nice city easy to get around, little traffic, tons of culture and even a creative class!” My “what the hell are you talking about character was like “Jigga What?”

Most people, including myself think Nashville is only Country music, but it’s way more than this.  In fact there are more professional studio musicians living in Nashville than anywhere else in the country.  Every night of the week writers nights are held where songwriters famous and not gather around to share their tales and play a little music. I went to my first with Maryalice a few weeks ago and fell hard for this art form, ever since I’ve been trying to participate a bit within the city more, now that I feel so much better – staying up a bit longer is part of my deal! IMG_1193

This past weekend Ted and Peggy came to visit, we had such a blast; as they LOVE culture and current events.  We went to the Frist Museum to see a fashion exhibition – Paris and London 1947-1957.  I loved it!!!!!  It was like walking through time, I kept thinking about the life style and the motivating thoughts of pop culture of the late 40’ and 50’s, just after the war and the beginning of “processed everything”, from food to high fashion.

What I didn’t expect was my reaction to the Chihuly exhibition, he is more than just a glass blower – he brings life to life.  After a car accident left him with one eye and a bad shoulder he needed to rely on a team to create his projects – this team work is now something FANTASTIC to watch, truly capturing the theory that the process is more important than the outcome. Now when he is having one of his creation sessions, he gathers a team of folks together, he serves as the director and all of these humans connect into the same flow of nature and produce magnificent pieces of art.  People come from all over to watch this creative process.

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I loved reading something Chihuly shared regarding Jackson Pollack, the painter said that when one is creating they are NATURE, that Nature moves through us when we create…. the process is the magic that we all seek.

I love this, ‘cause I am a writer and now I’m writing like mad in my books; but most of my days are full of creating other things like food for my family and arranging an environment that we all thrive in – this is art -this is nature moving through me.

After having such a profound experience at the Frist Museum we all were in a hurry to experience Chihuly in the evening, Cheekwood Mansion is the old Maxwell Coffee family home; now turned museum.  This house rests on 50 acres and I’m talking 50 acres of unbelievable botanical gardens. The Chihuly exhibition was placed through out these gardens and lit in the evenings, creating mirror like reflections when placed in the many reflecting pools and ponds.  Our mouths dangled open as each installation wowed us, with the heat of the southern nights and music of saccades’ and bullfrogs filling our ears with natures symphony – reminding me that creation is nature moving through us.

Princess Know It All is now a year old, that’s right folks, and this is our anniversary week.  One year since the website has been up and running.  Princess Know It All was first a play that I wrote 9 years ago in LA, then once we moved to Mexico – where I set out to write a book and escape the hustle of life, so that I could have the focus for the task; Ted (Bubba) said “why don’t you write a blog so everyone can stay in touch.”  I did this calling it Princess Know It All…Goes to the Jungle.  Before I knew it tons of folks were following and I was a newbie to the blog world.

As you all have noticed I’ve taken a few weeks off, trying to finish up my books and really reflecting on what I want the direction for PKIA to take in her second year.

With this reflection PKIA is now fixn’ to get a makeover  – so if you see that the site is acting up don’t give up just know we are behind the scenes building.  I’m working on adding something really cool –my characters are about to come to life – animation Shorty!!!!

I’m really jazzed about this, ‘cause I will be able to show y’all that I’m separate from Princess Know It All, she is all the characters or aspects of me that operate out of fear, insecurities and doubt – these characters are the core of all KNOW IT ALL’s;  ‘Cause when I’m Mee Tracy, I Knows Nothing.

I’m also looking for new office space and considering leaving the convent; I understand that I needed to be secluded the last 18 months.  My energy was so low and my focus was on surviving.  Now, with all of this development I’m looking to expand my crew – just like Chihuly I too will learn to work with a team.

So this brings me back to where I’m now sitting, on the beach in Malibu.

We are here for two weeks, Lee has some meetings and I came to feel it out.  I wasn’t sure if I’d still have the connection to this city that I once had or if my friendships had weathered the distance of 3 years passing.

I called Ms.Deanne – Bella’s preschool teacher and she saved a spot for the girls to attend her summer camp here in the “Bu.” The moment we walked down the drive the scent of desert sage and local plants swarmed my memory, then Ms. Deanne hugged us and her perfume sent me swimming.  I went all the way back to when Bella was 2yrs 9months and I was a first time momma, protective and frightened – frightened because I had no clue if what I was doing was right, I had no clue if I could actually hand my youngin’ over to someone else for the day.  Ms. Deanne’s scent reminded me of all of these lessons of trust that she guided me through.  I was home…

Lola jumped right in and Bella too, I then hung with my friends for the next two days – reveling in good conversations with familiar folks – the 3 years of time have done nothing to separate us, if anything we are closer than ever, knowing that our time together is special; after all we met in Pre-school.

What’s shocking is that my relationship with Nashville as a city is growing, I’ve become comfortable in its slowness, I’ve found myself appreciating when someone responds with a “yes Mam or No sir.”  I like all the green that fills this town/city, what I don’t like is the loneliness due to a lack of friendships.

I walked into Ms.Deannes and instantly 3 new moms began conversations with me, I’ve been in Nashville and the moment I open my mouth I feel like folks are trying to figure out which group to place us in, and fo’sho we don’t have a category and this is where Malibu is a fit – there really aren’t groups, this is LA and everyone is doing their own thing.

We have another week here to go and who knows what we will know by the end of our stay…will I expand in Nashville or come back to the Bu?

The first lesson in finding our balance…

June 28th, 2010

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This summer is way better than last, for so many reasons.  I guess we are totally set up now.  Bella loves camp, Lola is attending a preschool camp 2 days a week and my nephew Tylor has been spending the past 3 weeks with us. I love him being here, not just because he helps so much – my sister has done an amazing job raising this guy – he’s pleasant, kind, patient and incredibly neat – for a 17 year old.

He began spending summers with me when he was 8 years old, living wherever I lived; in Malibu he attended surf camps, at the ranch he played in the river and learned to ride horses.  I have a special relationship with him, really because my sister and I have lived so close in spirit with one another. When she had him I was still young and in school – our mother had died a few years before and I knew I needed to show up, much in the same manner that my aunts, uncles and grandparents did for us – we knew we belonged to a bigger world than just my mother.

Now Tylor is grown and I have little’s, he loves on them like siblings.  Yesterday he taught Isabella to ride a two-wheeler and wow what a fantastic moment this is in our lives.  I remember my learning of this grand memory that never leaves us – after all it’s really about balance, once we find this balance it’s never gone from us.  I told Bella to think of it as riding a horse, you’ve got to sit solid in the center and pay attention to where you are going, you see if you are riding a horse and your mind drifts shifting your level of presence the horse will follow your lead.  I’ve loved this lesson; learning to ride in relationship with the animal is nothing shy than a truly spiritual experience.  Don’t misunderstand me I’m not a great rider, I just like the relationship of it all.

Bella is so much like me in ways, quirky and yet solid.  She got it, she was riding on her own, when she passed me I had to hold back my laugh because she was sitting completely straight, eyes on the prize and saying repeatedly out loud “I’m riding a horse, I’m riding a horse, I’m riding a horse.”

I learned to ride a two-wheeler in Clark Court Apartments; we lived next to Bay and Bukie Marshall.  I jumped on my sisters red kids sized beach cruiser and peddled away, however my know it all self forgot to ask how to stop and I flew over the handle bars!  Bella was lucky, Tylor kept catching the bike, not letting her smash to the ground.

I love this, he’s learned what family is about – we can’t prevent the falls only try to break them, serving as a cushion.

Today Tylor and I are going to visit yet another local Nashville University, Lipscomb.  I really hope that he attends school close to me, I’d hate to miss out on watching him turn from young man to man.

For me it’s really been about being the belle of my own ball, filling my life with my kids, Lee and work.

I’ve been writing like mad, my goal is to finish 3 books by the fall.  I’m just about done with one and wow writing it has been a journey, ‘cause this book is all about food and health.  It’s really taught me much more than when I started it.  I thought Oh, it will be a cookbook – but now I’m siked ‘cause it’s not!  I’m not a chef, I’m not a super hard-core cook in the kitchen, I’m a regular person who has gotten well eating foods in their original form and what I know is how to heal your body and what each food does.  So I’m way siked about this project, cause it’s not a “cook book”, it’s a PKIA Book with recipes.

The other day I sat here typing in the Convent, I looked up and out the window, I felt a sparkle in my eye– I was in the middle of an “Oh yeah I’m really doing it moment”, I love these – ‘cause it’s not about the final product but the good enough feeling of giving it my all.  Luckily I’ve always been able to see when I’ve arrived at a point in my life.  Maybe to the outside viewer these moments seem hardly successful, but to me they are huge.

I write because I don’t wanna miss out, not on a second of it.  Once I’ve written I go back and see the magic of the moment or a clearer view of the situation that I’m in the middle of.  Gotta see those good enough moments, ‘cause that’s the only way our life is good enough.

EYES OF PROTECTION….

June 22nd, 2010

Gosh, I love taking it all out…the past week has been non-stop and sometimes I wonder how to get it all done, but I just keep showing up and pushing through.

Princess Know It All Please dont make me connectI want to do it all, I want to hang out with my girls, soak up my time with my nephew, he’s going to be a senior next year and this is probably our last summer just to hang out together.  He’s been staying with me since he was 8 – our summer time together has really meant a lot to me.  Bella is loving having him around and Lola too…Last week was interesting the girls were invited to a birthday party last minute and of course since my new “motto” is to join and not isolate keeping my “PLEASE, DON’T MAKE ME CONNECT” at bay.

I shifted everything around to get there; the little girl hosting the party is a new camp friend.  I was thrilled to meet her two dads, as fo’sho this is a world that I can fit into.  The best part was the cake, one of the dad’s – had made it singing of the 1970’s Tennessee – as he used an old school Barbie to top it!  I was reminded of my grandmothers 1970’s toilet roll covers that were hand crocheted; a totally warm and cozy feeling.IMG_1174

I sat down and took it all in, one of the dad’s leads ghost tours here in the city; I didn’t know they gave ghost tours – but now it makes sense as they do in most old cities with horse drawn carriages.  With a relaxed slip I said “Oh, I know this town is haunted – we’ve had our own experience.”  Then an elderly woman sitting next to me started to talk about “The House With Whispering Walls.”  Apparently she lived in the neighborhood long ago when things went down.  She used to play in that house as a child.

Again the room got cold and crowded, I became super uncomfortable and I knew that their memories – those that live in the walls – were next to me.

Oh, man I was torn between wanting to go there and asking as many questions as possible…and not participating.  The lady next to me however was intriguing; as she shared her experiences I put pieces together.  Not wanting to reveal too much and conflicted with the fact that this was not an appropriate place to discuss all of this.  However the kids were off on jumpy playground equipment and not in earshot.  I had to hold back and connect the dots – feeling protective of what I’d experienced and my relationship with the memories of that house.

The owner of the house had attempted to convince me that NO one before us had undergone anything uncomfortable while living in the house, including the family that lived there during the tragedy.  In fact she ran a list of how happy folks had been.  She’d forgotten that when we first moved in she’d taken me to lunch and spoke openly about how her husband had become paranoid and drank to much – destroying their marriage; sounds like a happy time.

According to my birthday party guest many folks who’d lived in that house had stumbled down a tragic path – including the original owners.  According to the elderly woman two of the originals had suffered deeply…one drinking herself to death and the other taking her own life.

That’s the thing when we live within the energetic memories of others…we are influenced, especially if these memories are kept alive by many living beings.

It’s the argument over say alcoholism – it’s not just genetically passed down but energetically – like if your dad was a drunk and he never drank in front of you, he still lived in that house with you and the feelings of a drunks space effect us.  When we grow up we’ve become influenced by this drunk’s way of living and find ourselves either drinking or again living with an addict – recreating the energy of our childhood.  That old saying – we are whom we hang around – is true.

Moving into a house that holds deep secrets, sadness and loss can only invoke those feelings within current residents.  Especially if the house itself has never been cleaned or even acknowledged.

My dreams there were paranoid, frightening and full of what I couldn’t speak out against or protect.  Since moving into our current house I’ve not had ONE dream like this.

I went to see Happy Son Of My People the next day; you see he’s not just an acupuncturist but also a Rabbi in the making– a Kabalistic teacher to me.  He had come to our old house when things got really crazy and he himself saw the face of what went on there.  When I walked into his office I climbed upon the table and told him “they are back.”

He immediately set to placing needles throughout my body, particularly certain points on the bottom of my feet.  Let me tell you shorty, these points HURT – I felt like I was stepping on nails.  When I asked him in Hebrew – “Mazay” (what is that point) he said “Kapara those are soul points, they are setting a boundary and opening your comprehension to other worlds and other life times.”  Then we spoke of what was going on, he said, “They want you to use your voice. You understand from the inside out what went on there, do you want to write it?”

I felt very quiet, not sure…then I drifted off into a dreamlike state that only the acupuncture needles take me too.  I saw an arrow and then a bulls-eye, the bulls-eye turned into the “Eye of God” known to some as the “Evil Eye” as it is said to protect one from negativity.  IMG_1236

Then I heard the elderly woman from the birthday party, her voice rang in my ears she asked did I have protection?  Then she asked had there been any stigmata in the house – I would have thought this incredibly bizarre – but instead I wondered how she could have known?

I woke up from my dream like state, still not sure if I wanna go there…Happy Son Of My People told me to talk to “them – the memories of the whispering walls” ask them what is it that they want to convey and then tell them that I need to do this in my own time and in my own way.

The elderly woman had wanted to get together and talk some more…I just gotta figure out if I really want to go  there; do I really want to know anymore? Or do I know too much as it is?  She did tell me that it wasn’t the spirits that were touchy about this story but also the living humans that remember.

Drive by….

June 16th, 2010

The other day I drove by our old house, the one with “Whispering Walls”.  It’d been sometime since I’d passed, not because I consciously was trying to avoid it but because my daily driving route has changed.

IMG_1198Ever since passing by my mind has been hooked by memories of what we experienced there, I know I left you all hanging but it was for good reason – once we knew what we knew it was all I could do to pack as fast as humanly possible and get out.  I’ve not spoken in detail about what went down, not because the landlord asked me not too, which she did and I respecting her didn’t want to hinder the future sale of her home, however I did inform her that in good faith she must tell future renters  -  had I known I’d never have moved in there – but of course it was all perfect, had we not moved in there our presence couldn’t have shifted a very old situation the way that it did….I’m getting ahead of myself, sorry.

My real reason for not writing was because the darkness that did what it did in that house was so big I fo’sho didn’t want it following me via my memories to our new house; my Poppy (my grandfather) always said “Decide where you stand the light or dark, once you make that decision stick with it.”  So at a young age I KNEW I was fixn’ to walk in the light – avoiding as best as possible any interaction with darkness.

I have NEVER been a fan of horror movies, scary books and to tell the truth Halloween and it’s “Evil” characters kind of creep me out. Dressing up in funny things are cool with Mee & of course vampires as I am obsessed with the idea of immortality; the thought of what it would be like to really get good at this human reaction thing is intriguing.

The Day of the Dead, is one of my favorite holidays – because it’s not about sadness but again celebrating the connection as we pass through the veils of this world – death is not evil its an intricate part of life.  With all this said and my deepening comprehension of memories, time & ghosts – that our memories actually are what haunts our hallways and dreams – what went down in our last Casa is revealing it’s self with a new perspective.

Tonight I spoke to a friend on the phone that I’d not caught up with since before Thanksgiving, and well it was the day after the Thanksgiving weekend that everything began to unravel and the truth would not remain hidden – the clanging of cupboards and doors was no longer something we could ignore.

As I began to tell her, why we’d moved so suddenly; the room got cold and felt as if it were crowding in on me.  Before I could even finish the first sentence my friend suddenly said you know what let’s not talk about this, my body is covered in chills. I said thanks, we can talk about it later when I see you in California.

After we hung up, I sat alone in my room and yet that crowded feeling filled the space – I thought of Senora Gina and how she nips situations, folks & thoughts in the butt -”Oh, No We Aren’t Going There”  came out of my mouth, with the same I’m not playing around tone as Senora used when with me when the possibility of Cancer knocked on my door.IMG_1201

Just like a bully on a playground pulls back from someone who stands up to them – refusing to feed their poison -  I did not participate – this is how one stays in the light; and so the energy in my room shifted.

What left remaining was her, I thought of her all night….the one who’s story I have tried to leave behind.  Not such an easy task being a truth teller.

So I will wait and in time maybe I will write more, but I know that I will not pass that house again because they will feel me, and then I will hear their memories…

That’s the thing about memories they are everywhere and can really be heard, the more attention that a memory has been given the more power it has in the present.

I’m too tired to write anymore and like I said sunrise is many hours away and this is a tale I shall write from the light of the Convent.

LAS MANSIONES Y LAS MAGNOLIAS

June 16th, 2010

Florida, Florida y otra vez Florida!

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¡Cómo me hacía falta un viaje a la costa!.. Estar sentada junto al mar dándome chapuzones – ¡qué bien le cayó eso a Mee! Tan sólo pasar un rato en la casa de Memaw (mi suegra) fue un escape, porque ella vive en otro mundo. Me fascina visitarla, observar su mente saltar de aquí para allá – “para allá” quiere decir algún momento durante los últimos noventa años.

En realidad, su confusión no es tanta, más bien es un rápido viaje en el tiempo que la deja girar entre todas las vidas que ha vivido.

La vieja casa está llena de recuerdos, puedes sentir que pasan rozándote en pleno día. De pronto, me acerco más a la pared para dejarlos pasar, como señal de respeto a esos seres que alguna vez caminaron por estos pisos, siendo humanos. Sé que mi suegra está arriba, en su habitación, hurgando en los tiempos que vivió con ellos, invitándolos a entrar a esos enormes espacios a través de su memoria.

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Lo único que seguramente se puede decir de esa casa, es que no se percibe como sola o vacía. Con cada mirada, mi propia imaginación se echa a andar, o quizás no sea mi imaginación, sino los ojos de mi corazón que bailan entrando y saliendo de los recuerdos de Memaw. A Lee y a mí nos encanta pasar las tardes sentados afuera, en la gran veranda frontal, que da al río Saint John. Puedo pasar horas contemplando el grande y viejo árbol de magnolia…Muchas imágenes de gente bien vestida, de los tiempos pasados, aparecen en el espectacular césped…Veo unas mesas cubiertas con manteles blancas que se mezclan con unos hombres vestidos de esmoquin blanco, y una big band tocando al fondo. Cada vez que entro a la cocina encuentro a Idora, que está sentada sola mirando por la ventana. En este otoño cumple noventa y cinco años, pero cada mañana se pone su uniforme blanco y baja a trabajar. Ahora trabajar para ella significa correr las persianas, poner la alarma y a veces lavar unos cuantos trastes. Está perdiendo el oído, pero su mente es como la de Memaw, y ella también pasa sus días viajando a través de los mundos de su pasado. La cocina, donde se encuentra la mayor parte de los días, está llena de toda la gente que alguna vez trabajó ahí con ella. Como a las nueve de la mañana aparece el equipo de trabajadores, cocineros y sirvientas que laboran de día; y se siente de verdad que el espacio se llena de gente. Una vez más, le cedo el paso a lo invisible.

Siempre paso mucho tiempo con Idora. Como debo cocinar mi comida con ingredientes naturales, ella se sienta conmigo recordando el pasado al ver mis métodos de preparación de alimentos, confirmando que es, efectivamente, una manera ancestral de cocinar. NO es ninguna NUEVA forma al estilo hippy de tratar la comida, sino lo que la gente comía en un principio: COMIDA DE VERDAD.

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Esta semana platicamos de su papá, Wyatt, y cómo fue su vida. Es que Idora nació en una vieja plantación de Georgia; su padre era aparcero. Ya me había hablado de eso antes, pero esta vez se sumergió en los recuerdos. Cuando le pregunté qué vida tenía alguien que había crecido en aquella vieja plantación, me dijo: “Fue duro, pues teníamos que hacer lo que nos decían”. Respondí, con mi mentalidad de yanqui ignorante: “Pero ustedes eran trabajadores independientes.” Se rio con su voz profunda y fuerte, diciendo. “Niña, la independencia no llegó a los negros en el sur sólo porque ya no éramos esclavos”. Luego, de repente empezó a platicar de su mamá y qué cocinaba ella, y cómo le había enseñado el quehacer de la cocina. La profunda y melodiosa voz de Idora y su uso del lenguaje me llevan por su túnel del tiempo, sobre todo cuando ella está emocionada con algo, como lo está con la comida que preparo. “Terrón de Azúcar, claro que estoy feliz de que tú alimentes a mis nenas con una comida de verdad y no, con esas cosas enlatadas y de botes. Yo nunca le di de comer al Viejo Lee esas porquerías cuando era un jovencito”.

A las niñas les encanta estar con esas mujeres. Creen que Idora también es su abuela, y lo misterioso de la casa las entretiene. Los grandes candiles que cuelga de los gigantescos techos, y las pinturas de la gente de antaño, suscitan las preguntas de Bella y Lola. De hecho, pienso que ellas también bailan entrando y saliendo de los recuerdos de Idora y Memaw – no podría ser de otra manera. Esas dos magnolias de acero – bellas, grandes y raras mujeres – me recuerdan que la vida y el tiempo pasan; aunque no hay que ponerse triste por su pérdida, porque los momentos de magia están ahí para ser saboreados. Son como el aroma de la magnolia: uno nunca olvida ese olor. Y al igual que el perfume de magnolia, se quedan guardados dentro, para ponértelos cuando necesitas refrescarte.

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Mi parte favorita de la visita era sentarme en la biblioteca y ver a Bella cantar para Memaw y Idora. Sé que no les queda mucho tiempo en este mundo, y quiero que al irse SEPAN quiénes son las niñas. Como vivimos lejos y ellas ahora son viajeras en el tiempo de los recuerdos, espero que vuelvan a invitar a mis chiquillas a la casa a través de sus recuerdos, llenando los salones con sus dulces voces cuando nos hayamos ido. Es la magia de los recuerdos: se crean a cada instante.

Unos días después nos fuimos al sur, para visitar a mis abuelos. Déjenme decirles que son ASOMBROSOS: ambos siguen tan llenos de vida como hace años. Papi enseñó a Bella a andar en su carrito de golf alrededor del “camping de casas rodantes yanqui” (como se le refiere Lee); y luego pasaron la tarde nadando junto con las niñas en la alberca. Una parte de mí no quería irse; al contrario, yo también deseaba nadar a través del tiempo y pasar el resto del verano con ellos, como lo hacía de niña.

Al finalizar la semana, era tiempo de regresar a Nashville, de vuelta al ruedo. Ayer Bella empezó con el campamento de verano en su nueva escuela, y le ENCANTÓ. Lo que me encantó a mí fue el poder llevarla caminando al campamento de verano, entrar con ella y conocer a los maestros encargados del campamento. ¡Incluso, hablé con otra mamá! ¡Bella se hizo amiga de otra niña, que estará en su salón y vive en nuestra calle! Esta mañana Lola y yo nos vestimos temprano para ir caminando a su escuela. Me siento bien porque sé que estoy estableciendo vínculos y me rindo a lo DESCONOCIDO.

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