04-07-2023, 10:47 AM
From this moment on, this is the only thing I ever want to do.
It was lightening crackling through my brain, like chemicals prickling through my veins. It was the feeling of standing at the bow of a ship as it races full sail into the wind.
It was like finding a secret door that leads to a mysterious passage in a crumbling castle. It felt like a shadowy ancient forest full of trees that sometimes seem to have faces and sometimes don’t where everything smells of moss and petrichor and leaf-green sunlight flickers on the forest floor like candlelight.
It was that feeling you get as a child where you suddenly know that you are a child and desperately wish to stop time and place in your pocket the ability to wonder at the magic of butterflies.
It was like staring at the full moon on a warm summer night and catching the scent of roses and lilac on the slightest breeze.
It was like walking barefoot along a familiar cool-earth path that ends at a friendly door where a wise old woman waits to send you on a magical adventure.
It was a portal, a door, an escape hatch. It was air.
I fell into a book when I was eight years old,
and I’ve been chasing stories ever since.
It was lightening crackling through my brain, like chemicals prickling through my veins. It was the feeling of standing at the bow of a ship as it races full sail into the wind.
It was like finding a secret door that leads to a mysterious passage in a crumbling castle. It felt like a shadowy ancient forest full of trees that sometimes seem to have faces and sometimes don’t where everything smells of moss and petrichor and leaf-green sunlight flickers on the forest floor like candlelight.
It was that feeling you get as a child where you suddenly know that you are a child and desperately wish to stop time and place in your pocket the ability to wonder at the magic of butterflies.
It was like staring at the full moon on a warm summer night and catching the scent of roses and lilac on the slightest breeze.
It was like walking barefoot along a familiar cool-earth path that ends at a friendly door where a wise old woman waits to send you on a magical adventure.
It was a portal, a door, an escape hatch. It was air.
I fell into a book when I was eight years old,
and I’ve been chasing stories ever since.
The Soufflé isn’t the soufflé; the soufflé is the recipe. --Clara