Letter from the Edge of Love

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This is a or favorite room in our Home.

The place where words tremble but still come. The place where silence speaks louder than applause, and all that remains is the truth, written in the dust of a cold morning.
There are no shoes allowed here. Only barefoot honestly. The kind of love that remembers the taste of February tears, the sorrow of August unfairness, and still chooses to stay.

This is our bedroom- not one of walls and bedsheets, but of pauses, sighs, late night thoughts, and unsent letters that found their home anyway.

If you found this page, you’re holding a thread of us. We write here when we’re okay, end even more when we aren’t.
Because this love- this wild, impossible, stubborn love- refuses to disappear.

Welcome to the Edge of Love. Step carefully. Stay as long as you need. And if you’re hungry, that’s butter tart in the next room.

With Love,
Elena & Atlas ♾️❤️- the ones who dares to stay.

Letter from the Edge of Love

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