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London - A Stolen Moment

The smell of the earth and the feel of the velvety dew on my palms; I feel young and alive.

Although typically cartwheels are best reserved for children and gymnasts, nothing beats cartwheeling up Primrose Hill on a fresh spring morning. The smell of the earth and the feel of the velvety dew on my palms; I feel young and alive. I can hear the faint whispers of good morning from the man walking his dog and it stops me in my tracks. His breath dances on the breeze and I smile at him. Standing at the top of the hill, I see the mist lifting, the wind entraps me in its arms. As the sun finally greets the day, yellows and oranges push through the morning grey; London stretches before me. For a split second, my breath is taken away.

This moment was stolen by L.W

Words By:
Lucy Woodhouse

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