There is no doubt that I might be addicted to eating chocolate, using to much butter, the warmth and light of the sun, my baby - his laugh, the smell of his breath, his soft skin, the tickle of his hair against my face - all of it, buying clothes for my son, the sea (waves, cold, smell, salt, everything), going to museums on a Sunday and imagining people looking at the same paintings and sculptures 50, 100 years before me, traveling - anywhere really, going home to my mom and feeling the comfort of food, furniture and conversations I'm used to, the smell of wood and basements (yes, hello, I'm weird) and the sensation of clean sheets on my skin.
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