👍 All Good 😊 | A Gentle Story for Sleep and Quiet Evenings

0:02 Welcome to the Slow Life. I'm Jennifer Vino and. I create narrate. And design the soundscape. Of this village of cozy stories to. Relax and unwind. Each week. I share. An original story read. Two times so you can relax. Even more during. The second reading I also create micro. Experiences inspired by the stories you hear. These are short. Gentle reading moments designed to help you slow down and rest in the village for as long as you like. They're available now to enjoy on screen or on paper, individually or in small bundles. Through the slow life dot.

0:57 CA under the shop tab. Let's settle in with some easy breathing at your own pace with each inhale. Let fresh air fill the space. Around your heart. With each. Exhale, feel the calm air. Spread through your body and flow out. Through your arms and legs, gently in. Through your heart. Gently out through. Your body in through your heart. Out.

1:41 Through your body. And now let's begin. This story is called All. Good. And it's. About a drive. To visit a friend. Simple words. And flower magnets. The road curves as I drive out of the village. The last. Few houses thinning out into open stretches of land. I passed the familiar turnoffs without thinking about them.

2:21 Small side. Roads that lead. Somewhere quieter, somewhere tucked away, the highway continues forward bordered. By low brush. And rock the surface worn smooth in places where weather has changed it over time. The morning sky has been overcast but begins. To clear. As I go along the sunlight. Starts to fill the car without glare. Brightening the curves. Of the dashboard. And the steering wheel in my hands. I drive this.

3:02 Way often enough that certain points along. The road arrive. In sequence, each one bringing a smile, not just marking progress. On my way. A bend in the road that opens. To a wider view. A. Stretch where the. Trees pull back. To reveal. Open fields where deer and sometimes even moose can be spotted. Tiny and Nook shooks, looking like small figures watching. Over the drivers. From above. And then there is the. Rocky Cliff. It comes up on the left side, not very high, but big enough to stand out in the landscape. The surface of it.

3:52 Is uneven layered in. Places with. Patches of lichen. That decorate the. Stone. Around them it stands. Close to the. Road and I know it's. There before I see it. I find myself looking towards. It as I. Approach. Not wanting to miss it, the car moves. Forward at a steady pace. And the Cliff begins to come into view in pieces. The edge of it. First, then more. Of the surface. As the angle opens. The words are there, just as they always are. All good.

4:37 They're painted in simple letters, white against. The darker rock, not perfectly straight. Not. Measured or spaced. In any precise way, but not messy, and they're perfectly. Legible. The lines are slightly uneven, as if they were done without hesitation, painted directly onto. The surface without. Planning. There is no decoration around them, no underline, no added marks, nothing to frame or emphasize them. Just the words. Themselves set plainly against the stone, I pass them at the same. Speed I always.

5:24 Do slowing down. Just a bit. With no one around me. The phrase stays. With me as I go by. The shape of it clear. Even as it moves out of view, I continue along the road. The Cliff. Disappearing behind me, replaced again by trees and open. Stretches the drive, carries. On. The words. Still in my head. All good. I think about how. Simple it is. How? It doesn't need to be explained or expanded into anything more. It doesn't suggest that anything needs to change right now. It just exists.

6:15 Complete on its own. The road. Leads me. The rest? Of the way to my friend's place. Where we visit for a few. Hours, then gradually brings me back again, looping through the familiar reverse pattern of the drive when I return the same way. The Cliff appears. Again, now on my right side, the angle slightly different. But the words still clear. This time, as I approach, I slow down even more and pull over on the shoulder.

6:55 I reach for my phone in my purse and put the passenger side window down. I hold it. Steady framing. The words. Without adjusting too much, I press the button once, then again taking a second image. Without checking the 1st, I take another. Look at the real. Thing before pulling back onto the highway the moment passes in the same way it. Always does. The Cliff receding behind me, the road unfolding ahead, Instead of going straight home, I turned.

7:38 Toward the village. Centre. I see the store is still. Open. So I park. Go in and move straight to the small photo counter at the back. The space is quiet. Only the low hum of the machines can be heard. I connect my phone, select the image without adjusting it, and choose a convenient size. The Prince began almost immediately, sliding out 1 by 1, still slightly warm. I. Gather them together, noticing uneven lines, the spacing, the way.

8:23 Nothing about it feels planned. It looks the same as it did on the roadside. An uncomplicated message. I take them to the counter, pay and step back outside. I paused beside the. Car looking down at the small stack in my hands before placing them carefully on the passenger. Seat. At home, the familiar quiet meets me at the door as I set my keys down and slip off my shoes. I take one of the photos and carry it to my bedroom, setting it on the mirror, tucking it gently into the corner of the frame so it stays in place. It sits there.

9:16 Becoming part. Of what I'll. See each morning and now there it goes on to. The fridge. Held in place with small flower magnets, it blends in with everything else already there, but still stands old enough to catch my attention each time I pass the words. Simple and encouraging among the movements of the day. The last one I place into a simple greeting card. No occasion, no reason beyond wanting to pass it on. I slide it in carefully.

10:00 Close the card. And set it aside to mail it to my friend I'd been to see. To day, I think of the words on the rock face and the times. I drive by. Without spotting them maybe? The traffic is. Heavier or something else is on my mind, but it never. Fails. That I remember them somewhere along the road. That someone took the time to paint those words, leaving them there for anyone passing by, even if it isn't all good in that moment.

10:40 Their effort and choice of kind words remind me that we're all moving. Through this together. Finding our way as we go. All good. The road curves as I drive out of the village. The last. Few houses thinning out into open stretches of land. I passed the familiar turnoffs without thinking about them. Small side. Roads that lead. Somewhere quieter, somewhere tucked away, the highway continues forward bordered.

11:27 By low brush. And rock the surface worn smooth in. Places where? Weather. Has changed it over time. The morning sky has been overcast but begins. To clear. As I go along the sunlight. Starts to feel the car without glare. Brightening the curves. Of the dashboard. And the steering wheel in my hands. I drive this. Way often enough that certain points along the. Road arrive. In sequence, each one bringing a smile, not just marking progress. On my way.

12:10 A bend in the road that opens. To a wider view. A. Stretch where the. Trees pull back. To reveal. Open fields where deer and sometimes even moose can be spotted. Tiny and Nook shooks, looking like small figures watching. Over the drivers. From above. And then there is the. Rocky Cliff. It comes up on the left side, not very high, but big enough to stand out in the landscape. The surface of it. Is uneven layered in. Places with patches. Of lichen.

12:52 That decorate the. Stone around them. It stands close to the road and I know it's. There before I see it. I find myself looking towards. It as I. Approach. Not wanting to miss it, the car moves. Forward at a steady pace. And the Cliff begins to come into view in pieces. The edge of it. First, then more. Of the surface. As the angle opens. The words are there, just as they always are. All good. They're painted in simple letters, white against.

13:36 The darker rock, not perfectly straight. Not. Measured or spaced. In any precise way, but not messy, and they're perfectly. Legible. The lines are slightly uneven. As if they. Were done without hesitation, painted directly onto. The surface without. Planning. There is no decoration around them, no underline, no added marks, nothing to frame or emphasize them. Just the words. Themselves set plainly against the stone, I pass them at the same. Speed I always.

14:20 Do slowing down. Just a bit. With no one around me. The phrase stays. With me as I go by the shape. Of it clear. Even as it moves out of view, I continue along the road. The Cliff. Disappearing behind me, replaced again by trees and open. Stretches the drive, carries. On. The words. Still in my head. All good. I think about how. Simple it is. How? It doesn't need to be explained or expanded into anything more. It doesn't suggest that anything needs to change right now. It just exists.

15:10 Complete on its own. The road. Leads me. The rest? Of the way to my friend's place. Where we visit for a few. Hours, then gradually brings me back again, looping through the familiar reverse pattern of the drive when I return the same way. The Cliff appears. Again, now on my right side, the angle slightly different. But the words still clear. This time, as I approach, I slow down even more and pull over on the shoulder.

15:50 I reach for my phone in my purse and put the passenger side window down. I hold it steady. Framing the words without adjusting too much, I press the button once, then again taking a second image without checking the 1st, I take another. Look. At the real thing, before pulling back onto the highway, the moment passes in the same way it always. Does the Cliff. Receding behind me, the road unfolding ahead, instead of going straight home, I turned.

16:33 Toward the village. Centre. I see the store is still. Open SO. I park, go. In and move. Straight. To the small photo counter at the back. The space is quiet. Only the low hum of the machines can be heard. I connect my phone, select the image without adjusting it, and choose a convenient size. The Prince began almost immediately, sliding out 1 by 1, still slightly warm. I. Gather them together, noticing uneven lines, the spacing, the way.

17:18 Nothing about it feels planned. It looks the same as it did on the roadside. An uncomplicated message. I take them to the counter, pay and step back outside. I paused beside the. Car looking down at the small stack in my hands before placing them carefully on the passenger. Seat. At home, the familiar quiet meets me at the door as I set my keys down and slip off my shoes. I take one of the photos and carry it to my bedroom, setting it on the mirror, tucking it gently into the corner of the frame so it stays in place. It sits there.

18:11 Becoming part. Of what I'll. See each morning and now there it goes on to. The fridge. Held in place with small flower magnets, it blends in with everything else already there, but still stands old enough to catch my attention each time I pass the words. Simple and encouraging among the movements of the day. The last one I place into a simple greeting card. No occasion, no reason beyond wanting to pass it on. I slide it in carefully.

18:55 Close the card. And set it aside to mail it to my friend I'd been to see. To day, I think of the words on the rock face and the times. I drive by. Without spotting them maybe? The traffic is. Heavier or something else is on my mind, but it never fails that I remember them somewhere along the road that someone took the time to paint those words, leaving them there for anyone passing by. Even if it isn't all good in that moment, their effort and choice of kind words remind me that we're all moving. Through this together.

19:44 Finding our way as we go I. Wish you sweet. Dreams.