The Girassol Journal 🌻

My dog Biscuit turned ten this month, and it made me realize how easily we take being alive for granted. A reflection on tree rings, birthdays, and what it really means to be granted another year.

Home isn't always a place. Sometimes it's a time of day, a smell, a sound, a feeling in your feet on the floor. A love letter to the small things that bring you back to yourself.