hero of the series Peaky BlindersCillian Murphy has flow. Or so they say at my house. I hear this expression while watching a scene where he’s walking with his hands in the pockets of his baggy trousers. I stay quiet because I’m at a stage where I want to look like a cool mom rather than an ignorant mom. I feel you have flow It’s like being classy and elegant, but I just want my kids to think “isn’t it?” I reinforce it.
Between squats and pushups, my gym instructor says the guy in the front row does too many pushups. flow. She wears a visor, a net that definitely marks her lower back, and arms that show she’s consuming anabolics beyond her means. It’s the antithesis of style and grace, but the man never misses a workout and does it with enviable technique and to the beat of the music. what does it mean to have flow? No idea. It’s a good thing that no one can fully describe. I just know that I want to have it too.
Years ago, my mother gave my grandmother a jasmine and planted it in a field at the entrance of our house. For years, it made every night of my summers smell. The smell came at night and disappeared at dawn. They rearranged a conservatory and the jasmine disappeared. It was the year my grandmother died. A coincidence, they will say. A sign for me. I was very upset that I decided to give my mother a jasmine. He planted it on my balcony and I wake up to the view of it every morning. The first flower came out last Saturday. It took 24 hours. It is difficult to describe the satisfaction. call this flow, call it a link, call it a compromise for anything. The truth is, this detail filled my week with a mix of joy, longing, and certainty that I love living.
Thirty years ago, after selectivity, I unknowingly closed a chapter. At the time, she didn’t realize that she would never see her classmates again, whom she had seen every day for years. People I’ve spent time with and feel good about. We cheated on exams, on trips, sandwiches, teen walks, a few kisses, and year-end festivities. In these last few months, those of us from the class of 1972 met again. I went to these appointments with the same excitement and fear. Now that I’m unrecognizable, I’m wondering if I should introduce myself or have something to talk about. Everything was easy and we didn’t stop talking. Behind the beard and long hair I saw the cow mastered in Physics. The girl who always smiled and continues to smile today, or the girl who was and still is handsome in her youth. I spent days thinking about the emotion these encounters evoked in me. Evidence that time has passed, nostalgia for a time when I was unconsciously happy, doubts about what would have happened if I had made different decisions, or how lucky I felt today. It’s a hard thing to describe. Something that’s definitely a lot flow.
Source: Informacion
Barbara Dickson is a seasoned writer for “Social Bites”. She keeps readers informed on the latest news and trends, providing in-depth coverage and analysis on a variety of topics.