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“I walk a path of my parents’ making. I walk it the same way I walk the wooden walkways they’ve made that stretch across Beechwood. I do not see how to step off. If I exit the walkways into the bushes, under the trees, or onto the sand — it doesn’t matter. I am still on their island.” — E. Lockhart
I walk a path of my parents’ making. I walk it the same way I walk the wooden walkways they’ve made that stretch across Beechwood. I do not see how to step off. If I exit the walkways into the bushes, under the trees, or onto the sand — it doesn’t matter. I am still on their island.