I was in Rio de Janeiro this past week with my 15 year-old daughter. It was a blaze of joy, of sun, of conversation across various languages, and the feeling of profound love bubbling up at every turn. Walking on cobblestones. Climbing age-old steps. Talking to strangers. A reminder sounded in my mind’s ear like a joyful mantra: I love the world. I love the world. In spite of so many harms, the many losses we are required to grieve. Despite so much, a voice refused to relent: I love the world. I must remember that I love the world.
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