The Fineness of Falling Forward

Born to make mistakes, they say. A truth that settles like dust on the edges of our triumphs. Not a decree of doom, but an echo in the chambers of learning. Each stumble, a language spoken by the clumsy feet of growth. A grammar etched in scars, visible only to the touch of memory. We are not born flawless, but with a boundless capacity to redraw the lines of our becoming. The cracks in our porcelain selves catch the light in unexpected ways, revealing the intricate architecture of resilience. So let the errors bloom, unfurling their strange petals. For within their delicate imperfections, lies the fierce, untamed beauty of being human. ©bfa051925