Little daughter studies.

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“I used to think I was the strangest person in the world but then I thought there are so many people in the world, there must be someone just like me who feels bizarre and flawed in the same ways I do. I would imagine her, and imagine that she must be out there thinking of me too. Well, I hope that if you are out there and read this and know that, yes, it’s true I’m here, and I’m just as strange as you.” – Master of the Month, Frida Kahlo

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My daughter: What’s poetry?
Me: It’s an art. People write down sounds or ideas that are beautiful.
My daughter: I have beautiful ideas.
Me: I’m sure you do. Will you tell me one?
My daughter: Um… balloons on a Christmas tree.

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