You know those howling, windy nights where it’s too dark to be boisterous yet the wilderness agitates your soul?

The sort that need roaring fires and poetry read aloud and are pierced with bright, shining stars?

I love them.

I love the freedom they give.

I love their unbridled daydreams and Bronte-esque emotions.

And if you asked me right now, I’d probably chuck it all in to run a mobile library service and learn to grow vegetables in some quiet back country.

My, don’t I dream big?


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