The best strings of words aren't found in the lost texts in the fires of Alexandria, or a practiced speech. Run your eyes over the flipped hourglass and discover once again that powerful words, the ones that warm your chest or soften your gaze, aren't packaged. They're raw, slipping right out of some fool's mouth smack onto the linoleum, warping the baseboards. Let go and see that the mouth aimed at you, with a priest's conviction and a bard's timbre, was just wise enough to loosen the reigns and channel genius. A flash of brilliance that lines up when it wants to.
We never have to practice a story down to the smile. Don't rehearse the moment you pause and wait for the other dinner guests to laugh. Just root out that moment; no templates only timelines, and the rest will follow.
It isn't your job to polish a punch-line. Not quite. Rehearsal makes sure the story can be told, but emotion, spur of the moment embellishments allow that story to be shared.
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