“Even then, only a child, she knew she had to pretend to be someone else -- for her parents, for their customers, for everyone else in that miserable factory town, dark and ashy with smoke -- even if it made her sad. If she ran fast enough on those raw, dark mornings through the woods, she might see the trees and the morning stars, merrily alive, scurry back to their rightful places. She might hear the animals whisper and sing. And she would gain something special -- a secret knowledge, an awakening. Something else no one else could know. But until then she had to pass unnoticed, waiting to be delivered to another world where she belonged.”
Book:Church of Marvels