When I was younger, I used to think of the story of Icarus flying too close to the sun was silly. Who would make wings of feathers and wax?
Why would he engage in such a fully only to fall to his demise when the wings melted?
And then I stood at the edge of a clif in winter on the rocky shores of Maine….
and suddenly I understood.

Beauty can be lethal.
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Indeed!😆
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