Salon Marié

[salonmaree]

[salonmaree]

[salonmaree]

Constantly caught between “there’s time, no need to rush” and “you’re already late”.

Because life stretches out like it owes me decades, but also whispers that tomorrow isn’t guaranteed. I don’t know which voice is right, only that both feel true, and neither gives peace.

[salonmaree]

some days progress feels as small as a single breath drawn in darkness - trembling, uncertain, barely there at all. but remember: even that whispered inhale is the universe continuing its ancient dance through your bones, even that fragile moment is your story refusing to end.

[salonmaree]

you're not behind, love — you're unfurling, petal by precious petal, in your own sacred season. and what a brilliant becoming it is.

[salonmaree]

fall recklessly in love with your questions - let them echo in empty rooms, scatter like stardust across midnight thoughts. watch how the universe conspires; how answers bloom like shy flowers in spring, drawn irresistibly to the gravity of your wondering heart.

[salonmaree]

If the world’s conspiring against me, I’d appreciate an RSVP—chaos should at least be courteous.