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There he was, bent over his canvas, sketching the bistro on the corner, unaware of me being aware of him. He was to me, what freedom looks like. The freedom to take time. To express oneself. To be creative.

These days, my days are trying to drink the ocean with a straw.

I arrive very early and I look up and it's 3pm.

Just like that.

And not one of those minutes was spent creating, writing from the heart or being artful.

I know I'm lucky. I love what I do and I love that I have some small impact in this world.

But I also know that my soul needs to stretch, to dance, to write, to be astonished, to renew itself.

Beside a pocket of a few hours with dear friends and their adorable babies on Saturday and a run on Sunday, this week has been laser focussed on the must and have to versus the want and wish to do. Some weeks are like that.

But most weeks, I want to be like that man with his canvas, who takes time to create and take it in. To balance work and life. To be both focussed and free.